Title: Gwil's Guide to Growing Up Torchwood: Year 3
By: amuly
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Series: 1) Unconditional, 2) Gwil's Guide to Growing Up Torchwood: Year One, 3) PWP, 4) Gwil's Guide to Growing Up Torchwood: Year 2
Rating: NC-17
Summary: When a seven-year-old boy falls through the Rift, Ianto and Jack decide to adopt him. This is the story of his life at Torchwood.
Warnings: none
A/N: Welcome to Year 3! Fun stuff going on this year, to make up for all the angst in Year 2 ^.^ (Of course, I'm just buttering you up for Year 4, which is going to be DRAMA and ANGST central :P)

***

Gwil's scar tingled as he exited the portal, tugging at the tight skin where his index finger once was. Unconcerned, he stepped out of their fake house and onto the path, starting on his way to school. His scar always tingled when he went through the portal; he had just never mentioned it to his tads since it didn't really hurt or anything.

Hurrying along, Gwil gripped his lunch box tight in one hand. With one glance around for the presence of either of his parents, he turned from the normal route to school and hurried down a side street, then taking a right and continuing on to school. This way was only two blocks longer than the route Tad had planned out, and Gwil always took it now that his tad let him walk on his own. He was nine, after all. All the fifth years walked to school by themselves: even most the third years and some of the second years did.

“Gwil!”

Gwil's stomach did a funny little flip-flop as he turned to the source of his shouted name. Katie was hurrying out of her house, silky brown hair flying around as she stormed down her front steps.

He waited until Katie was on the pavement with him before he replied: “Hey Katie. Watch'ya reading?”

The book Katie had been clutching switched hands, and Gwil turned it over to read the back cover as they walked. “It's called A Wrinkle in Time. It's about this girl and her little brother, and they get sucked up into this whole adventure. Her brother's really smart, and so's she.”

Gwil passed the book back to Katie, doing his best to keep his face neutral. The back cover had mentioned the word “tesserect”. Gwil wasn't sure what a tesserect was, but it sounded familiar. It sounded like something Auntie Tosh might have said, back when he first got sucked through to the future two years ago.

Katie was still talking. “-want to go on an adventure one day. Especially to a whole different world, or time, or dimension! Don't you?”

Gwil's rucksack slid from his shoulder as he shrugged, and he had to sling it back on. “Dunno. Sounds scary. What if it's someplace bad?”

Katie's eyes were bright as she waved away Gwil's concerns. “Then you just have to be brave. I think you'd be brave, don't you?”

Gwil decided it was time to change the subject. “I brought you something.”

Katie's eyes lit up as she grinned broadly. “Really? What is it?”

Fiddling with his lunchbox, Gwil managed to open it without breaking stride too terribly, and retrieved the present inside. It was a jam doughnut. He had snuck it from the kitchenette this morning, while his tad and dad were busy “talking” in private. They seemed to be doing a lot more “talking” recently, ever since the Big Fight that they pretended they weren't going to have, but Gwil knew they did.

He had cried in his room that night, because he knew it had been all his fault for being a brat and telling Dad that Tad didn't love him. But the next morning Tad had come in and given Gwil an extra cuddle, and Dad had seemed really happy at breakfast, so Gwil supposed they had worked everything out.

Katie gasped as she took the doughnut, eyes as wide as the hole in its side where the jam was peeking out. “Gwil! Is it jam-filled?”

“Yup.” Gwil popped the “p” and tried to do that smooth, proud look that Tad did whenever Dad was impressed with something he did. He didn't think he quite managed it, but Katie didn't seem to notice.

“Thank you, Gwil!” Katie's eyebrows furrowed as she turned to Gwil forlornly. “But I don't have anything for you!”

Gwil shrugged, edging just a tiny bit closer to Katie. Now he was trying to look like his dad: all cool and cocky, just how he always looked right before he and Tad would start snogging. “That's okay. It's no big deal.”

With a little giggle of delight, Katie turned to Gwil and wrapped him up in a hug. Gwil's arms shot up as he hugged her back. He grinned over her shoulder.

Then Katie pulled back, taking a bite of the jam doughnut as they continued their walk to school. Gwil swung his lunchbox a little more enthusiastically with each step as he walked.

**

Zack ran into Gwil as the students poured out of the classroom for lunch. Gwil shoved back, standing his ground and keeping his pace even as he moved to lunch. “Oi!” Zack knocked his shoulder into Gwil. “Watch it!”

“You bumped into me first.” Zack wasn't a bully – at least, Gwil didn't think he was. He was just kind of loud, and said mean stuff sometimes. But he kind of reminded Gwil of Uncle Owen: saying mean stuff without wanting to be mean, just not really thinking about the stuff sounding bad. Gwil was certain there was a word for it, and that his tad had used it more than once in reference to Owen (but it wasn't a curse word, Gwil was sure of that, too). He just couldn't remember it.

Zack just snorted and tossed his shoulders back. “Whatever. SEAN!” Gwil winced as Zack shouted at eardrum-bursting levels for his friend. With that, the other boy was gone, tackling Sean from behind in greeting. Sean laughed and shoved Zack against the wall in response. Gwil pondered the sight. He didn't understand it, but he knew the two boys weren't boyfriends, because they'd call other boys queer in an apparent insult. Yet, they acted kind of like Tad and Dad acted, when they thought no one else was looking. Gwil suspected that having two tads made his perspective a little different from the other kids, so he kept his mouth shut on the matter.

Tibor's shoulder was the next to bump into Gwil's, but it was in an entirely friendly manner and intended, disparate from Gwil's earlier encounter with Zack. “Oi! Gwil! Did you see the new Clone Wars last night?”

Gwil found himself flanked by Zachary on his other side, who joined in on the conversation. “With the new Sith student with the face and the head?”

“So wicked!” Tibor moaned, face rapturous as he recalled the night's previous episode.

Gwil frowned. He hadn't seen the episode, because Mickey had brought an alien “corpse” into the Hub that was actually still alive. When it woke up to Martha cutting into it, it had released a localized EMP blast as a defense mechanism, taking out all the electricity in the Hub. That included Gwil's telly.

“I missed it.” Tibor and Zachary both made known their distress over Gwil's lack of Clone Wars in his life the night before. “But I record all the episodes, so I'll watch it tonight.”

In his enthusiasm, Zachary grabbed at Gwil's arm, shaking it madly. “You gotta watch for the thing with the building and the clone troopers.”

Tibor cut in, leaning across Gwil as they continued to walk to the lunch room. “You mean with the hooks and the guys?”

Zachary threw his hands up in delight. “Yes!”

A small sigh escaped Gwil's lips as he settled in at their lunch table and started opening his lunchbox. Darn Torchwood.

**

Gwil gnawed at his bright yellow pencil as he stared down at his test. It was spelling. He hated spelling. Maths were fine, reading was fine, history and science were fine. But spelling. Spelling was just awful. Auntie Tosh said it had to do with him knowing Welsh pronunciation, plus being late when he started, plus not having as good of a handle on the modern Welsh accent. Or something like that. Gwil just knew it was hard.

The teacher warned that she was going to move onto the next word, so Gwil quickly scribbled down: “reserv”. He frowned, added an “e” to the end. He frowned again and erased the “e”.

“Deserve. Deserve.”

Gwil grumbled to himself and scrambled onto the next word. He was almost positive “deserve” had an “e” on the end. Maybe. Auntie Tosh had said something about long vowel words having silent “e”s on the end, so “deserve” should have an “e” on the end, because the “de” part was pronounced “dee”, and not “deh”. Or at least, so Gwil hoped.

“Grow. Grow.”

He growled, scratching marks into the side of his page. He knew “grow” was spelled “g-r-o-w”, but it had a long vowel sound, and didn't have an “e” on the end. So was he remembering the rule wrong? Gwil went back to “deserve” and erased the “e” on the end, before getting nervous and putting it back in.

Bollocks.

**

Katie was trying to explain to Gwil the very important difference between being a doctor and a lawyer – “Because doctors have to poke the insides of living people! But lawyers it's okay, because it's just talking.” – when the Torchwood SUV flew past them, lights flashing and alarms blaring. Gwil spun around in his stride, watching Uncle Owen hang out of the window with gun drawn and pointed backwards, as he shouted and swore at Auntie Gwen, who was hanging out the other window in a mirror image of the doctor. He caught the faintest glimpse of his Dad behind the wheel and Uncle Andy in the front seat, before the car was gone around the corner. A second after that, something invisible but most definitely there followed in the SUV's wake, following it around the same corner.

Next to him, Katie was tugging at his jacket sleeve. “Gwil! Gwil!”

Gwil turned, sighing as he fumbled in his pockets for his cell phone. If something really bad was happening, Tad would have called him. But nope: no missed messages. So just a normal day, then.

Katie was still tugging at his jacket, so Gwil turned to look at her. “Gwil! Wasn't that your dadses car?”

Gwil shrugged a shoulder, glancing to the side. He fumbled with the answer, finally settling on, “Yeah. My dad's. Tad drives a normal car.”

Katie's eyes were wide, her lower lip trembling a little in fear. “But... is everything okay? Who was that man? And that lady?”

Gwil shrugged awkwardly, fingers fumbling with his rucksack as he tried to walk a little more quickly. He could generally avoid such questions about his dads' jobs by saying “government stuff” and changing the subject. When something like this happened, however – and it happened disconcertingly often – Gwil still hadn't mastered the art of carefully constructed lies.

“That was Uncle Owen and Auntie Gwen. They work for my Dad,” he said carefully. “They're all... government workers.”

“That didn't look like government stuff! That looked like...” Katie fumbled for a moment, before her eyes widened. “James Bond! Is your dad James Bond?”

“No, that's my tad.” Gwil grinned as Katie's eyes widened even more.

“Wow!”

“Yup,” he shrugged. “Dad's more Captain America.”

Katie giggled. “I've never met your dad. Is he really American?”

Gwil decided to go with the easiest answer again. “Yup.” He honestly didn't know if Dad was American. He was pretty sure, with the accent and everything, but Dad had never mentioned America, nor had anyone else at Torchwood.

“I'd like to meet your dads one day. They seem really cool.”

Glancing down the street, Gwil hesitated. They hadn't put the teleport to the test with people outside of Torchwood, just yet. Still, Katie was standing next to him in front of her house, shiny brown hair blowing in the brisk Cardiff breeze.

“Maybe,” Gwil responded earnestly. “I have to ask my tad, but maybe!”

Katie's smile was bright. Gwil smiled back. “Cool!” she said. “See you tomorrow!”

Gwil watched for a few moments as Katie skipped up her front steps, bounding inside her house. Then he hurried back down the street and over to his house, running to make up the time he lost with the longer route. As soon as he entered, he saw the Rift alert blaring, so he grabbed his snack out of the fridge and hurried to his room, locking himself in. Tad would be in once the alarm stopped sounding, to make sure he was okay. Then Dad would come later, all swagger and smiles, and scoop him up and tell him all about the big bad aliens they stopped.

But for now, Gwil locked his door and opened his laptop to play some games. He'd start on his maths homework in a bit.

***

Ianto thumbed at the heavy platinum band on his ring finger, smiling quietly to himself. The coffee machine whirred and hissed as he brewed that first batch of the day. As he reached out to pull at the lever, he paused, watching his ring glint in the light of the Hub. It was odd, certainly, to see it there. And he wasn't used to its presence, rubbing at his other fingers, clinking against his morning cup that he held as he ushered Gwil off to school and Jack into the shower... which he might have allowed himself to be dragged into, rings clinking against each other as Jack entwined his fingers with Ianto's.

Soft smile still tugging at his lips, Ianto placed the mugs onto his silver platter and started his rounds, humming quietly to himself. After he made sure everyone was squared away with biscuits and coffee, he'd head down to the Archives. He had a theory about where the 1819 archives had disappeared to in 1842, and was determined to make some headway locating them today. At least he'd be able to eliminate a few sections of the lower levels-

“Ianto!” Ianto blinked, spinning around to the source of the voice. Martha was just coming in, bag slung over her shoulder and Mickey heading off in a different direction. With a squeal Martha started forward, dropping her bag to the ground and clacking over the metal grating in her heeled boots. Gwen peered out from Toshiko's workstation, where she had taken over for Tosh on her day off. Owen glanced up from where he was wiping off a scalpel, dissected body splayed out on the autopsy table before him.

Practically upsetting the coffees Ianto had carefully balanced on the tray, Martha scrambled with the tray and passed it off to Gwen, before tugging at Ianto's left hand. “What is this?!”

Ianto tried to get away, to grab at his coffees and move quietly on to his archives, but Owen was clambering out of his autopsy pit, and Gwen, Mickey, and Martha were all gathering around. Above them, Ianto heard Andy's footfalls over the metal grating as he clambered downstairs. Trapped.

Martha was clutching at Ianto's hand like it was a brand new pair of pumps. “What are you doing wearing a wedding ring?!”

On instinct Ianto's first reaction was to glance at Gwen. Her eyes were big, but mouth turned up into a wide, gap-toothed grin. No conflict there, then. His next reaction was to turn to Owen. To his surprise, Owen was grinning too, thin lips spread even thinner over his gums.

“'atta boy, Ianto. Finally managed to get the good Captain to settle down.” He smacked Ianto on the shoulder before heading back down to the autopsy bay, leaving Ianto feeling rather confused. But the other members of Torchwood were so busy swarming around him, chattering away, that he didn't have a moment to think on Owen's odd behavior.

“What's going on here, team? It doesn't look like working.” Jack strode over, hands in his pockets and big grin indicating that he knew exactly what was going on. Ianto turned to him, pleading with his eyes for Jack to save him. He had work to do – work that he actually wanted to do.

Of course, Jack entirely ignored Ianto's silent pleas for extraction.

Instead, he whistled appreciatively, reaching forward and taking Ianto's left hand in his right. “What's this?” he questioned. “Fancy ring you've got here.”

Gwen and Martha were bundles of barely-contained bouncing delight, holding onto each other and squealing like little girls who just laid eyes on their very own pony. “Which is it?” Martha asked breathlessly, as Gwen scrambled in her back pocket for her phone. “A wedding ring or an engagement ring? Don't tell me you got married without us! Honestly, Jack: I could have at least tried to invite the Doctor! It would have given him a laugh to hear the news!”

Ianto tugged his hand away from Jack even as the other man was shaking his head in reassurance to Martha. Meanwhile Ianto was busy trying to figure out where Gwen had put the platter with the coffee mugs. Said woman was currently screaming into her mobile, jumping up and down. “No! Really! Ianto and Jack! I know! I'm calling Rhys next. You'll see the ring tomorrow, Tosh! No: don't come in. It's your day off! It's gorgeous. Looks like platinum. I KNOW!”

Jack was a constant presence at Ianto's side, grinning broadly and taking the whole spectacle in. Meanwhile, Ianto still desperately wanted to sneak off, down into the archives and into his comfortable solitude.

To Ianto's surprise, it was Owen who came in and saved him. “Alright,” the doctor said, peering up from the bottom of his autopsy pit. “Let Ianto get back to work. I need my coffee.” Owen held his single ungloved hand out significantly.

Finally managing to locate his coffee platter – on Mickey's workstation, for some reason – Ianto picked it up and handed Owen his coffee, ready to pass out the rest and leave as quickly as possible. Just as he passed the coffee to Owen, though, the doctor grabbed his wrist, holding him in place. “Drinks tonight, then? For the men!” Owen insisted, upon seeing Gwen and Martha's face light up. “And no Harkness.” Jack pouted. “Just the boys, to give Ianto a proper send-off into married life.”

Up on the main level of the Hub, Mickey shouted with delight and pounded Andy's back, causing the former policeman to splutter and cough. Figuring it would get him out of the scrutiny of the rest of the team members for the time being, Ianto quickly nodded his assent. “Tonight?”

Owen winked and gave him a quick thumbs up. “Sounds good. And we'll get to see if we can't talk you out of the sheer insanity that must be behind your decision to marry our good Captain.”

Mickey started laughing his arse off, clutching at Martha as tears slid down his face and he jeered at Jack. “I'll never have to watch the missus again! You'll be married! I don't... I don't...” Mickey gasped for breath. “How will you even be able to speak?!” He pointed rather viciously at Jack, who was starting to pout more dramatically at everyone's comments. “You won't!” Mickey continued. “You'll go up to someone, and start to say something flirty, but you've got a wedding band, so you'll never be able to speak again.”

Jack frowned, catching Ianto's attention just as he finished passing out the coffee and was about to head downstairs. “I'll still be able to flirt, won't I?”

“Absolutely,” Ianto reassured him, straight-faced. “In fact, I think Mickey's in need of a bit of friendly sexual harassment, don't you?” With that, Ianto finally managed to hurry away underground, Mickey's cries of despair bringing the spring back to Ianto's every step as he headed farther underground.

**

At some point during the day their drinking group had expanded to include Rhys as well – “I'm here purely as a spy for Gwen. Just thought I'd make that known up front.” – and so Ianto found himself crowded into a booth with Rhys, Mickey, Andy, Owen, and copious amounts of alcohol, potato skins, and crisps filling their table.

Mickey held up his glass. “So, first thing first,” he titled the glass at Ianto. “We gotta have a proper toast for the newly engaged man. So, to Ianto, for getting Jack to pack it in for more'n ten minutes at a time.”

Ianto acknowledged the toast graciously, clinking his glass with everyone else's and taking a long swallow of his ale.

Owen was the next to hold his glass up, grin teasing at his lips. “And now, a drink to the dearly departed: to Ianto's sanity. It had a good run, but up against Harkness for four years, it didn't stand a chance.”

Good a sport as ever, Ianto clinked his glass with everyone's and downed the rest of his ale in one, reaching for another immediately.

Rhys was next, though not holding up his glass, just speaking around a mouthful of potato skins. “Alright, so since the wife's going to be on me about it, I need to know:” Ianto waited for the question. “How'd it happen?”

Ianto blinked as he took another drink. “Sorry?”

“The engagement! Who 'popped the question', you know? He ask you, you ask him, was it on the London Eye or somewhere 'romantic'...” he shrugged. “Gwen's dying to know.”

Ianto hesitated. “Er...” The other men sat around the table, drinking their ale and waiting for an answer. Ianto took a swallow of his own as a stalling tactic. Finally he decided to stick as close to the truth as possible. “It was a mutual agreement, one night.”

Owen and Mickey screwed up their faces, both taking a pull from their ales. Owen nodded at Andy and Rhys. “I think that means they were fucking when it slipped out.”

Ianto blushed. “No! No! Nothing like that!” He thought back, trying to put the rather emotional evening in an explainable context. “Gwil instigated it. He asked me if Jack and I could get married, and then decided to broach the issue again at dinner.” Ianto took another swallow of ale as he tactfully left out the ensuing fight. “So we discussed it, and decided it might be for the best.”

Rhys nodded, leaning back in his seat. He was apparently satisfied with the explanation, and started to settle in to serious drinking. Ianto could only try and follow suit, hoping that the questions might end. Though the look in Owen's eye indicated he had more to say on the matter, but it could wait. A little while.

Andy left first, sputtering a half-hearted excuse that seemed to Ianto to be a cover-up for trying to return home to a woman. Ianto wasn't aware of any girlfriends that Andy might have, but the way his face turned bright red and the only two pints he consumed definitely seemed to Ianto to indicate that he had someone waiting for him at home. Then again, it could always be a boyfriend, though Ianto was fairly certain he would have picked up on that before.

Mickey and Rhys left at the same time, checking their watches and happily heading home to their wives. Which just left Owen and Ianto, who decided to walk home from the pub for a ways before they split off to their respective “houses”.

“So,” Owen started. Ianto waited, hands tucked into his jacket's pockets. “When did this engagement conversation take place?”

“Well, it was... couple months ago, actually. Well...” Ianto tried to think back. It was before his birthday, so... “Almost five months ago, really.”

“Five months?!” Owen laughed, shaking his head and throwing it back as he stared up at the night sky. “Fuck, Ianto, you could have told us. I could have backed off Harkness months ago.”

“'Backed off'?” Ianto raised an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah. The only reason I kept riding Jack about you two was so he'd actually do something about it. Or cut you loose. It wasn't fair on you for him to keep stringing you along like he was if he wasn't serious. I didn't think you'd ever have the stones to confront him on it,” Ianto was fairly certain he should take offense to that, but he let it slide, “and I didn't think Jack would ever let himself admit how much you mattered to him, if you did at all. So I figured: annoy the Captain until he broke it off or gave in!”

Ianto frowned, glancing over at Owen. The young doctor appeared to be serious, in his own, nonchalant sort of way. Feeling that this required some sort of acknowledgement, Ianto took one hand out of his pocket and squeezed Owen's shoulder. He received a thin-lipped smile in response.

“I don't agree with your methods,” Ianto cautioned as he removed his hand and put it back in his pocket, “but thanks. I think.” They fell silent for a moment as they walked. “Though in the end, it was Gwil that showed Jack and I the light, not your... prodding?”

“Eh, well,” Owen smirked. “It was worth a shot. You deserved better than Jack treating you like some cheap fuck.”

Ianto frowned. “He never treated me like that.” He hesitated, staring at his shoes tapping over the pavement with each step. “Even at the beginning. He's a good man. Beneath the flirting and hardened façade.”

They fell silent again, the sounds of the city humming in the night surrounding them. As they drew within a few blocks of where they would go their separate ways, Ianto spoke again. “I thought it might have been jealousy. With-” Ianto hesitated, glancing sidelong at Owen. It was a sensitive subject, but Ianto had just enough alcohol in his blood to spur him on. “You and I come from similar pasts. Both of us had girlfriends-”

“Fiancée,” Owen growled.

“Significant others,” Ianto conceded. “That were killed by aliens. And we both ended up working for Torchwood. But then I found Jack-” Ianto cut himself off. He didn't mean it to sound narcissistic, or condescending, or holier-than-thou, but Owen's behavior had required an explanation in Ianto's mind, and that was the best Ianto had come up with.

Owen didn't seem too offended by what Ianto had presumed. He shrugged, laughing a little sardonically. “I'm doing just fine for myself, Ianto, thanks. In case you hadn't noticed, I managed to pull two birds' numbers just tonight.”

They stopped, at the crosswalk where they would split off: Ianto to head back to the Hub, Owen to his flat. “I know,” Ianto agreed. “But sometime you might want more. You did with Katie. And Diane.”

Now Ianto had struck a nerve. Owen looked off into the distance, shaking his head. “Not again, Ianto. Not in this job. You've got some kind of security, with Jack.” Ianto bristled at Jack's condition being spoken of so off-handedly by Owen, but let him continue. “I've already lost two women I love to this fucking Rift. I don't need to go through that again.” Owen fell silent for a moment, and Ianto thought maybe he should say his goodnights and head off. But then Owen forced a smile onto his face, devoid of any true happiness and tinged with desperation. “Besides, I'm doing just fine for myself. I pull a bird whenever I need one, and... s'fine.”

“What about...” Ianto hesitated, wondering if he should suggest it. Again, the alcohol helped ease the decision. “What about a girl who already knew about the Rift? Who was capable of defending herself against it?”

Owen snorted. “You got another girlfriend in the basement, Ianto? Because the only birds who know about the Rift are on our team, and two of those are married.”

Ianto waited for a beat, and when Owen didn't continue, he prompted: “And one of them...”

Owen laughed. “One of them is Tosh. I mean, come on.”

Ianto bristled at that, coming to the defense of his friend. “What's wrong with Tosh?”

Owen held his hands up, laughing. “Nothing! She's a pretty bird and all. Nice... you know.” He gestured in front of his chest. “But she's Tosh.”

Ianto nodded: not agreeing or disagreeing, just leaving the idea to percolate in Owen's mind. It seemed to be taking some sort of root, as Owen fell silent and frowned. Good.

They said their goodbyes, patting each others' backs in manly displays of affection. Then Ianto started down the Cardiff streets, back in the direction of the Plass. The day had gone better than expected, all things said and done. He hadn't wanted a fuss over his and Jack's engagement, yet out of all the celebrations and attention, some good had come. He now had the perspective to reevaluate his increasingly negative opinion of Owen – even if Owen had honestly been a total idiot in the way he had gone about things. And maybe he helped Tosh out, too, by bringing to Owen's attention something which had, apparently, never occurred to him before.

As Ianto stepped briskly across the Plass and onto the invisible lift, he grinned. Plus Jack had promised him every-now-knows-about-our-engagement sex. Sure enough, as the lift descended, Ianto saw Jack staring up at him expectantly, arms folded over his chest and big grin on his face. Ianto smiled back.

A good night, all in all.

***

Gwen burst through the tourist office doors, brown hair whipping across her face in the wind from outside. Her eyes were wide, almost frightened. Automatically Ianto reached for the sidearm he kept under the desk for emergency, thumbing the safety off. “What's-”

But Gwen was waving, slightly out of breath. “It's nothing, Ianto, dear.” She slammed the door shut behind her, hurrying in. “Who's our doctor today: Martha or Owen?”

Ianto didn't even have to check the rota posted on the side of his computer. “Both. Why? Were you injured?”

Gwen waved her hand again, blustering past Ianto and through the secret entrance to the Hub. Ianto stared after her, perplexed. After a moment's quiet contemplation, he put up a “back in 15 minutes” sign on the Tourist Office door, locked it, and hurried downstairs after Gwen.

He walked through the cog door just in time to see Gwen hauling out the full-body scanner, talking to Martha in hurried whispers. Martha's eyes were wide, but she didn't seem scared. On the contrary: a grin was starting to tug at her lips as she and Gwen stared up at the display on the wall.

“What the hell do the girls think they're doing?” Ianto turned to Owen, who was strolling over to him, eating a bag of crisps. Ianto shrugged.

“Gwen came in looking for Martha. Wouldn't say why.”

Owen squinted at the display, and Ianto followed his gaze. The medical scan had started pulsing slightly, a small red dot focused on Gwen's... stomach? Did she have a tumor? But no, it was lower than that. Almost in...

“Holy bleeding fuck!” Owen shot past Ianto, heading for the medical bay. “Looks like Rhys was taking full advantage of your extra days off, huh?”

Ianto's eyes widened, mouth falling open. Oh. Oh.

He hurried over to the medical bay, joining Owen on the observation level. Martha was chattering excitedly. “-beats having to wee on a stick!”

Ianto wrinkled his nose. At least that was something he and Jack would never have to worry about. He paused, thinking about some of Jack's off-handed remarks in the past. He hoped it was something they'd never have to worry about. He pulled out his PDA and wrote a quick note on it. Jack -> Contraceptives? Then he turned his attention back to the medical bay.

Gwen was standing with her hands over her mouth, eyes wide as she stared up to the display. “But... we weren't trying...” Abruptly she spun around, eyes searching until they landed on Ianto. “Ianto? Could we chat? In private?”

Ianto nodded, pushing past Owen and offering Gwen a hand as she hurried up the stairs. “We'll just step into my office,” he teased as he led her to the cog doors, up the lift to the Tourist Office. In the Hub, Owen's trainers stomped over the metal grating. The last thing Ianto heard was Owen's shouts for “Harkness! Get your arse in here!”

Safely ensconced in the Tourist Office, Ianto set about making Gwen comfortable. With the excitement of the discovery wearing off, shock seemed to be setting in, her face going pale as her eyes continued to to bulge out of her head. They'd dry out at this rate if she wasn't careful.

“I think this might be call for tea,” Ianto suggested lightly. He headed into the backroom the Tourist Office, where he kept an electric kettle and biscuits for just such an emergency. A minute later he was bringing Gwen a plateful of biscuits and a steaming hot cup of tea, which she accepted gratefully.

He waited for her to take a big gulp from her cup and munch her way through two and a half biscuits before venturing a question. “So. What brought this on?”

Gwen laughed around a mouthful of biscuit. “I suppose the usual sort of thing, Ianto. You must be familiar with it?”

Ianto rolled his eyes, but smiled. If Gwen was making jokes about it, then perhaps she wasn't quite as delicate about this as she seemed. “I meant,” he corrected, “why'd you come back from the Rift alert down in Penarth certain you were pregnant?”

Gwen waved her hand excitedly in front of her face, swallowing down her biscuit. “It was them! The trader aliens. Well, not them. Their pets. They didn't look like dogs, in fact, more like pointy flowers, but they started sniffing at me – maybe sniffing? It's what it seemed like – and then their master is telling me I'm about to 'sire offspring'! I thought maybe I was just on the rag, but then I remembered that I hadn't had it this month. And then I realized I couldn't remember the last time I'd had it. And now I'm apparently eight weeks!”

Ianto blinked, taking this in. “And the traders...?” he prompted.

“Oh, oh, they're fine. They thought we'd already made contact, I told them nope, not yet, and they took off straight away. Lovely, obliging people. Er... aliens. You know.”

Ianto nodded. He'd bother her for the actual report later. When she wasn't in such a... delicate state. “So you wanted to speak to me?”

Gwen nodded, sipping her tea. “Maternity leave. You mentioned a while back we actually have a policy for it?”

Pulling the desktop keyboard closer to him, Ianto nodded. “Yup. Torchwood is surprisingly progressive when it comes to women in the workplace. They had policies in place going back to before Jack first showed up.” Ianto furrowed his brow as he clicked through the Torchwood mainframe to find the appropriate forms. “In fact,” he smiled at Gwen, eyebrows twitching confidingly, “there were two women in charge when Jack first signed on as an independent contractor.”

Gwen grinned, wiggling her fingers suggestively. “I bet there's a story behind that.”

The proper forms appeared on the computer screen. Ianto clicked 'print' and strolled into the backroom, waiting for them by the printer he kept back there. “Actually, no. Apparently they were in quite the serious relationship.” He paused for dramatic effect, only continuing once he had the forms in hand and stepped back into the main office. “With each other.”

“Ah,” Gwen smiled. “I doubt that stopped him from trying.”

“Oh, of course,” Ianto agreed with a smile. “Well, here they are.” He passed the forms to Gwen, slipping a hand into his pocket as he watched her scan them. “Really, the tangible changes will be you and Andy switching jobs: he'll be on active field duty, while you'll stay behind and act as support and an administrative assistant.”

Gwen grinned. “So does that mean I get to help you with the coffee? Or the archives?”

Ianto hesitated, a cold fist of fear gripping his heart. “Er...”

“Only teasing!” she slapped his arm. “Honestly, Ianto: the look on your face.”

“Right.” He took a breath, in an attempt to calm his racing pulse.

Gwen was nodding to herself as she looked down at the forms, eyes skimming over the fields should would have to fill out and the duties she could no longer perform for the duration of her pregnancy. She looked up at Ianto again, smiling nervously. “A kid in Torchwood,” she marveled. “I would have never thought it possible, before you and Jack got Gwil. But you two do so splendidly with him, so I suppose it'll be alright, yeah?”

Ianto hesitated. “Well... Gwil's older,” he reminded her gently. “It takes a lot of the strain away, having him at an age where he can fend for himself: get his food out of the fridge if there's a crisis; watch telly while Jack and I aren't around; put himself to bed at night, if need be. With a baby, you'll have to actually be there for it, every second. There's no leaving it in its crib while you dash off to save the world.”

When Gwen looked terrified, Ianto stepped forward, hurrying to reassure her. “But you've got Rhys!” he offered.

Gwen's panic subsided, smile blossoming on her face at the mention of her husband's name. “Yeah,” she mused. “And he'll make a great tad, don't you think?”

“Absolutely,” Ianto said without hesitation. “He comes from good Welsh stock, after all.”

They shared a grin, Gwen breaking eye contact to sip her tea. While she was looking down, Ianto allowed a small flicker of concern to pass over his face before smoothing back to a placid mask. If he was being honest – and perhaps the tiniest bit judgmental – he'd argue that he had much less concern over Rhys making a great tad than he did over Gwen being of the motherly disposition. She didn't seem very... nurturing.

But then again, women seemed to have that instinct built into them. Perhaps it would just take the pregnancy to bring it out in Gwen. 

“You know,” Ianto leaned forward confidingly, attempting to draw his mind away from its petty place, “speaking of how independent Gwil is: he doesn't follow the route to school I laid out for him.”

Gwen frowned. “What? Why not?”

Ianto made a big show of glancing around, causing Gwen to giggle and lean closer. “I think he has a girlfriend.”

“No!” Gwen laughed. “No! He can't! He's so young!”

Ianto nodded mock-seriously. “Yup. He altered his route so they could walk to school together. I've never caught them doing anything more than a quick hug, but...”

Gwen clapped her hands together. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun!” she exclaimed. “Gwil growing up, turning up the Harkness charm-”

“God forbid,” Ianto teased.

“And my baby growing up with him. It'll be like he has a baby brother or sister! Oh, and maybe he could even babysit, when he gets older! I could give him a tenner for every hour...” Gwen sighed, smiling. “It's going to be alright,” she asserted. “I can tell. This'll all work out just fine.”

Ianto was saved having to turn the subject away from his own doubts on the matter by the secret door to the Hub bursting open, Jack bounding in and looking around, big grin filling his face. “So is it true?”

Gwen bobbed her head viciously in response, jumping up from her seat.

“Is it Rhys'?”

“Jack!”

“Jack!”

Jack held his hands up in defense of the two-person reprimand from Gwen and Ianto. “I mean it's not another Nostravite, is it?”

Gwen punched him in the shoulder. “No! Martha already checked it out. I'm eight weeks, and everything is looking perfectly normal. A practically mundane pregnancy.”

“Except that you found out you were pregnant because an alien race's flower-dogs smelled it on you, then you came back to your underground base and used an alien medical scanner to ascertain if it was true.” Jack and Gwen glared at Ianto, who shrugged unapologetically. “Just trying to put it in perspective.”

Gwen and Jack ignored him, opting instead to scoop each other up into a bone-crushing hug. When the broke apart, a wicked smile crossed Jack's face. “Wait, so you just found out now, right?” Gwen nodded. “Have you told Rhys yet?”

“Haven't had the second!” Gwen exclaimed, even as she fumbled for the Tourist Office phone.

Jack laughed. “You told me before you told him! He is going to love that.”

Gwen batted a hand at Jack as she dialed Rhys' work number. “He doesn't have to know that, does he?” She fell silent, listening to the phone ring. “Rhys? No, no: everything's fine. Well...” She came to an abrupt stop, eyes wide as she fumbled what to say. She glanced at Ianto imploringly, before placing her hand over the receiver. “What do I say?” she hissed.

Ianto shrugged. “Just tell him.”

Gwen bounced at the desk, clenching and unclenching her free hand uselessly as she deliberated with the receiver pressed against her face. “Well... love...”

She paused, and Ianto thought he could hear Rhys say something like “scaring me” over the line.

“No, no, everything's fine. I swear.” She paused a beat, then squeezed her eyes shut and said in a rush: “Fine if you like babies.” Ianto watched as she cracked an eye open slowly, smile spreading across her face as she listened to Rhys. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, me. … Yes!”

Ianto and Jack exchanged a grin as Rhys' whoops and cries could be heard over the phone. After another minute of hurried reassurances and breathlessly happy laughter, Gwen put down the phone and turned to Jack. “Do you mind...”

“Go,” he said, waving a hand. “Celebrate with the hubby. Just don't do anything I wouldn't do!”

Gwen swept Jack up into a hug, planted a kiss on Ianto's cheek, then raced out of the Tourist Office, aglow.

Ianto leaned against his desk, taking in the quiet. He turned to Jack, raising an eyebrow. “Is Andy ready for duty as a full-time field agent?”

Jack shrugged, striding over to join Ianto in his position leaning against the desk. Their shoulders bumped, and Ianto leaned into the contact. “He's going to have to be, now.” When Ianto looked worriedly at Jack, he waved a hand. “He's fine. He's been with us more than a year, and he's never had any problems in the field. We'll manage.”

Ianto nodded. He had no doubt they'd manage. Their team was big enough to handle temporary rearrangements like this. And even with Gwen working exclusively as support staff, and Ianto on restricted active duty, they still had six active field agents – two more than when Ianto had first joined. He might doubt Gwen's maternal instincts, but when it came to Torchwood being fully staffed, they'd be just fine.

“So,” Ianto turned to Jack, serious expression belied by his playful tone. “Gwen's realization made me think: should we be using contraceptives?”

Jack squinted at Ianto. “Is... is there something about twenty-first century men I should know? That you're hiding from me?”

Ianto couldn't help the full-body shudder that imagery elicited in him. “No, no. Definitely not,” he reassured Jack. “But you're not a twenty-first century man. And you have made comments in the past...”

Jack laughed: a full belly laugh, filling the Tourist Office. He wrapped his arm around Ianto, pulling him even closer. “Oh. No! Thank goodness. Definitely no need to worry about getting me pregnant, Ianto.” He paused, and Ianto waited for the inevitable other shoe to drop. “Now, in the fifty-first century, when you could trade your body in for a new one, well...”

Ianto smiled as he listened to Jack's story, not caring if it was true or not. Everything should work out fairly smoothly, adjusting around Gwen's pregnancy. And Gwen was right about one thing: it might do Gwil some good, to be able to mentor a little “cousin”. Overall, it certainly wasn't a disaster on the level of anything even approaching a normal day at Torchwood.

***

Ianto grunted as he hauled Jack's corpse onto the gurney, Owen leaping out of the SUV to help him out. As Owen started to wheel Jack into the Hub, Ianto ran over to Tosh and grabbed at her. She stared up at him, eyes wide, grip tight around the tablet in her right hand. “What's going on?” he growled.

“It's keeping him dead.”

Ianto couldn't think about that, couldn't deal with that piece of information. So he released Tosh and turned away from her, running to follow Owen to the medical bay.

Tosh caught up with him a few seconds later, fingers flying over her tablet. “It's giving his heart a shock every time it starts to beat. Like some sort of reverse pacemaker.”

Ianto didn't look at Tosh as they came out into the main area of the Hub, Owen already hard at work attaching sensors to Jack's lifeless body. “We need to cut it out of him,” Ianto ordered.

“No!” Tosh's shout startled Ianto into looking at her. He wished he hadn't. Her face was tear-stained, her eyes bright and frightened. After taking a moment to calm herself, she handed the tablet over to Ianto. “We can't. The readings I'm getting indicate that it's got some sort of fail safe, or automatic trigger that'll sense any attempt to tamper with it.” She looked over at Owen as Ianto scrutinized the tablet. “It'll explode if we try to take it out of Jack.”

Owen threw his scalpel at the wall, causing Ianto's head to jerk up. From what he could tell, Tosh was right in her initial assessment. “Well that's just great,” the doctor yelled. “What exactly do we do, then?”

Jack's entire body shuddered, then went still. Owen and Tosh studiously avoided looking at it, but Ianto couldn't look away. It was what Jack had been doing since the strange little mechanical device had flown out of the shadows of a toy store and implanted itself inside his chest. Ianto knew that the shudder was Jack starting to come back to life. And the movement stopped when the device activated, killing him again.

Coming to a decision, Ianto walked over to the medical bay and down the stairs. He took Jack's cold, limp hand in his own, then turned to Tosh. He ignored the way she looked like she might cry again at his simple action. They had a problem to solve. Now wasn't the time to get emotional, or think about what-ifs. They needed to find a way to bring Jack back. And they would.

“We could...” Ianto took a breath, the swallowed. He tried not to think about the next words to come out of his mouth. “We could take him somewhere and detonated the device remotely.”

Tosh was shaking her head. “It's too big. Judging by the energy coming off of the device, it could take out all of Europe if it went off. There's no where we could take him on Earth that'd be safe.”

Owen threw his hands up. “So, short of detonating the good Captain in space, we've got shit.”

Ianto checked his watch, still holding onto Jack's hand. Andy would still be dealing with clean-up at the toy store: retconning everyone and making sure there were no other malicious devices hiding on the shelves. He frowned at the time. Just gone four. Was it already that late? Jack's hand shuddered in Ianto's, then went still again. Ianto did his best to ignore it. If it was four, then...

“Tad? Dad? What... is he...”

Ianto sprang into action, releasing Jack's hand and rushing over to Gwil. The little boy was standing at the top of the stairs to the medical bay, eyes wide and frightened. He started to rush forward, toward Jack. Ianto stepped in his way and scooped him up.

“Dad? Dad! Dad!”

Without thinking Ianto clutched Gwil to his chest and carried him to their stairs, ignoring the scratches and bruises he received in the process. “Tad, let me go! Put me down! Dad!”

Ianto didn't say anything or look at Gwil until he reached Gwil's room, setting the still-struggling boy on his bed. Immediately Gwil jumped up, trying to run past him and out the door. Ianto stopped him with an iron grip around Gwil's upper arm. “Sit down.”

Gwil's eyes widened at Ianto's tone. He gazed up at his tad's face for a moment before bursting into tears. Ianto hesitated, suddenly unsure of what to do. He had been in Torchwood mode, in witness-handling mode. But now he had to be in Tad mode. And he wasn't sure he could do that right now.

“Dad's fine.” His throat stuck on the lie, so he swallowed and tried again. “He's hurt. But he'll be fine.” That one came more easily.

Gwil wasn't convinced in the slightest. Tears flowed down his face in earnest, entire body shaking with terror and sobs. “He's not! He's not! He's not breathing! He's dead, I know he is!”

The door behind them opened, and Gwen rushed in. “Ianto, I-”

He silenced her with a look. “Watch Gwil,” he ordered. “I need to...” she nodded.

“No! No, let me see him!” Gwil was up from the bed again, struggling to get past Ianto and Gwen to the door. Ianto held him in place with one hand, begging Gwen with his eyes. Gwen nodded her understanding.

“Come here, sweetheart.” Gwen scooped Gwil up in her arms, and he quieted slightly. “I just saw your dad, and he's going to be okay. He's hurt, but he'll be fine.”

Gwil snuffled and shoved his face in Gwen's neck, rubbing snot and tears all over her shirt. Ianto frowned and made a note to get the top cleaned for Gwen. Better to focus on those little problems he could handle, right now, rather than the rather large problem he had no idea how to solve.

Gwen continued to shush Gwil. “Remember when your Tad was hurt?” Gwil nodded, face still buried in Gwen's shoulder. “Well, that's how your dad is now. But he'll be fine. Just like how your tad was.”

This comparison seemed to sooth Gwil a little, and he lifted his head, peering up at Ianto. “Dad'll be okay?”

Ianto nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Yup.”

“You promise?”

It was even harder to speak this time, but Ianto managed. “Yup.”

Gwil's eyes were searching Ianto's face, so he kept it a smooth mask, smiling tightly at Gwil. “Go on,” he encouraged. “Stay with Auntie Gwen. I'm going to go help Auntie Tosh and Uncle Owen take care of Dad. As soon as I can, I'll come down and bring you up to see him, okay?”

Gwil nodded again, though his expression was still skeptical as Ianto turned away and headed for the door. Once outside, Ianto took a moment to walk over to his and Jack's room and shut the door. He collapsed back against it, letting the tears fall that he had been so desperately controlling while he talked to Gwil. He gasped, pressing the heel of his hand to his eye. What if Owen and Tosh couldn't figure this out? What if they just didn't have the technology for it? Would they have to put Jack in cryo? Keep him in storage, until the technology came along to fix it? And then would Jack just have to keep dying, over and over again, until that day?

Ianto pushed himself away from the door, tugging at his waistcoat. With a steeliness he didn't remotely feel, he squared his shoulders, wiped the tears from his face, and left the room. There had to be a way to fix this. With him, Owen, and Tosh working together, there was no way they wouldn't be able to find some sort of solution. If not them, then perhaps Martha or Mickey would find a way.

But there had to be one. Jack couldn't stay in this perpetual cycle of reviving and immediately dying again forever.

When Ianto reached the medical bay again, his face was dry, his eyes clear. Still, Owen and Tosh didn't quite meet his eyes, instead looking at each other or their display screens as they spoke. “What do you have?” Ianto asked, placing his hands on his hips in a gesture of casual certainty he didn't even remotely feel.

Tosh passed her tablet off to Ianto, not quite meeting his eyes. “We had a thought,” she started, voice begging caution without her having to say it. “An EMP might give us the window of opportunity we need to cut the device out of Jack without it detonating.”

Owen twirled a scalpel casually between his fingers, staring at his screens instead of Ianto. “But Tosh reckons I'll have a max of fifteen seconds to get it out of him and into a containment unit.” Ianto nodded, waiting for more. “Which means I can't really go for the careful incision.”

Ianto stepped forward, already knowing where this was going. “Where is the device?” He peered over Owen's shoulder and at the display, where an angry red dot was blinking in the vicinity of Jack's heart.

Indeed, that assessment seemed to be accurate. “Looks like it's lodged in his left atrium.” Owen pointed the scalpel at the screen, before slowly spinning himself around in his chair. He made eye contact with Ianto, expression apologetic. “I'm going to have to crack his chest open and dig out his heart.” Owen held his hands out in supplication, shoulders shrugging. “I've got to do it fast, and-”

“Okay.” Ianto nodded, not looking at Owen. “Fine. Let me get the proper containment box ready.” Ianto made to turn away before he hesitated, thinking the plan through before turning to Owen again. “Is...” he swallowed before continuing in a more intimate tone. Owen leaned forward to hear him. “Is there a way to not have his heart in the containment box? To separate the device...”

He trailed off as Owen shook his head grimly. “Sorry, Ian. I know, with his condition, you don't want his bits around...” Owen shook his head again. “But nothing I can do. If I try and separate it, for one, the time it takes might push us past the deadline, and for another, Tosh reckons its safer to keep it attached to some piece of Jack. More chance of it not exploding.”

Ianto nodded. He had figured as much.

He turned to go get the containment unit when Owen spoke again, touching Ianto lightly on the elbow. “Hey, he won't grow back or something, will he? Two Jacks?”

Ianto shook his head. “From what I understand, no. Otherwise we'd be knee-deep in Jack clones by now.” With that sickening bit of grim humor, Ianto hurried off to Jack's office to see if he had the classification of containment unit they needed for the task at hand.

**

There wasn't the sound of a single person breathing as Tosh double-checked her tablet for the final time, EMP gun sitting on the medical table in front of her. Owen was on the opposite side of Jack's corpse, sledgehammer in his hand, wicked-looking rib spreaders and knife waiting on the table on his side of the medical bay. If it weren't for the latex gloves and white coat, he'd look more like someone about to practice a ritualistic sacrifice than a doctor. Ianto stood at Jack's feet, containment box open and awaiting Owen.

“Ready?” Tosh checked with the two men, setting her tablet to the side and picking up the gun. She braced herself, pointing it at Jack's corpse.

“Any last words?” Owen half-heartedly joked as he shot a nervous glance at Tosh's gun. “I'd just like to say: I regret not taking that bird up on that blow job last week. Looked like she could suck a football through a straw.”

Ianto nodded. “Right. Good to know. Tosh?”

Tosh closed her eyes as she pointed the gun at Jack's heart. “One... two... three!”

The gun fired.

Jack didn't explode.

Owen set to work, slamming the sledgehammer down on Jack's chest, caving it in. Ianto wanted to vomit. Jack's entire chest turned concave, collapsing inward under the force of the blow. The knife came next, Owen stabbing into the disgusting, malformed area of skin and bones that used to be Jack's chest. He ripped a hunk of skin away the size of Tosh's tablet, throwing it to the floor with a wet splat. Ianto could see pieces of bone and muscle still attached to it, and even more littering the hole in Jack's chest.

Owen abandoned the rib spreader in exchange for shoving his hands in, yanking the mass of broken bones apart and exposing Jack's heart. Ianto could see the alien device attached to it, artificial construction setting it obviously apart from all the bone and muscle and skin. Reaching in with his left hand, Owen gripped Jack's heart, cutting it away from the arteries and veins with his right. He turned, Jack's heart slowly dripping half-coagulated blood onto his corpse and the medical bay floor.

Ianto was at his side in an instant, holding open the box for Owen to drop Jack's heart into. The moment he did Ianto snapped the lid shut, sealing it and tapping the activation code into the lid. The box beeped once, then went silent.

The three Torchwood team members waited as Ianto held the box.

Fifteen seconds passed. Then thirty. When a minute did, Ianto dared to breathe again. Still alive, then. He set the containment case down, eyeing it cautiously. It stayed inactive.

Owen laughed, throwing his knife down on the medical table. “Wow.”

Tosh laughed, hugging the EMP gun to her chest. “It worked!”

Ianto slumped against the half-wall of the medical bay, sinking down until he was sitting next to the containment unit. He stared up at Jack's bloody corpse. “Nothing else in him? Stopping him?”

Tosh was already shaking her head as she tapped away at her tablet, Owen running a similar scan simultaneously. “Everything looks normal,” she reassured Ianto.

“How long?” Owen nodded between Jack's corpse and Ianto. “And don't pretend like you don't know, because I've seen you timing his 'recoveries' before.”

Ianto looked wearily down at his watch. Owen was right: he had timed this before. He had even timed how long it took Jack to regrow his heart, when a still-unidentified beast had shoved its fist into Jack's chest and eaten his heart. “Ten minutes. Give or take.”

Owen and Tosh set about cleaning up their areas, Tosh greeting Andy when he returned from the clean-up on site. Ianto ignored them, opting instead to stand next to Jack, holding his hand as he watched Jack's chest slowly set itself to rights: bones fusing together and slotting back in place, muscles and tissues moving around, skin molding together. Ianto only saw a quarter of his heart regrow before Jack's skin fused up, but he continued to stare down at Jack's chest as if he could still see the healing process.

It was closer to twenty minutes later when Jack's body heaved on the table, shuddering back to life. Ianto didn't realize he was waiting for Jack to die again until Jack was coughing weakly beside him, tugging at Ianto's hand. “Hey. Hey! What happened?”

Ianto breathed: a deep, shaking breath that moved through his whole body, releasing all of the tension that was there. He turned to Jack, who was hauling himself upright and poking at his bare chest.

“Where did my shirt go? And why do I feel like someone just beat me with a sledgehammer?”

“Ah, he's awake, then.” Owen waved down at Jack from the top of the medical bay, freshly-cleaned tools in his hands. He stormed down the steps, twirling the sledgehammer cheekily. “And I might have the answer to your question, Harkness.”

Jack's eyes went wide. “What?! What happened?” He pointed an accusing finger at Owen. “Why'd you hit me with a sledgehammer?”

Owen just cackled as he put his tools away, Jack's eyes going wide as he took in the knife and rib spreader, then even wider as he caught sight of a hunk of his own skin in the medical wastebasket.

“Jack,” Ianto interrupted. Jack turned to Ianto, all grin and bluster, before he caught sight of Ianto's expression. He sobered immediately.

“What is it? Did someone get hurt?”

Choosing to ignore the ridiculousness of Jack's question when the man himself had just revived from death, Ianto continued. “Gwil saw you when you were... out. I left him with Gwen, but he's scared.”

Jack's face went through confused, horrified, and scared in quick succession, before settling into a sad, serious expression. “Go get him. Don't want him scared any longer than he needs to be.”

Ianto nodded, squeezing Jack's hand as he turned to go. Jack stopped him, however: refusing to let go of his hand and tugging Ianto back to him. “Hey.” Ianto smiled tightly at Jack in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. Jack's knowing smile said otherwise. “You okay?”

“Just good to have you back,” Ianto quipped. “It was... uncertain. For a short time.”

Jack nodded, understanding painting his features. He squeezed Ianto's hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing it. “I'm sure I'll get to read about it in the report.”

“Absolutely,” Ianto reassured him.

Jack kissed Ianto's hand one more time before releasing it. “Just remember,” he teased, “it's me. It's going to take a lot more than a piece of alien junk hiding out in a toy store to finish me off for good.”

Ianto breathed in, shakiness receding with every moment Jack was alive. He smiled. “I'll keep that in mind.” He turned away, calling over his shoulder: “Back in a moment!”

Jack must have taken the few minutes Ianto was gone to get himself presentable. When Ianto returned with Gwil, it was to find Jack lying on the couch, hand over his head and fresh shirt on. Gwil screamed as soon as he caught sight of Jack lying on the couch, rushing toward him. “Dad?”

Jack levered himself upright, wincing only slightly with the movement. Ianto made a note to draw him a bath, later. All those deaths in such a short time had to take a toll on him. “Hey, champ!” Gwil threw himself at Jack, crying as he let himself be scooped up in Jack's arms. “Hey, hey,” Jack rubbed Gwil's back, eyes closed as he waited for him to stop crying. “It's okay. I'm okay.”

Gwil snuffled and shook his head, clinging tightly to Jack. “You looked dead! Your chest wasn't moving, an' you were white, an' you were dead, weren't you? I know you were dead!”

Jack shook his head, eyes sliding open slowly as he glanced at Ianto. “I'm fine, champ. I'm right here. Just ask your tad.”

Ianto hesitated as Gwil turned to him, small hands wiping at his dripping nose and eyes. He looked to Jack, seeking his permission. They had to tell Gwil eventually, after all. And maybe it would be better for Gwil to find out sooner rather than later. Children were adaptable like that, after all. Teenagers or young men, not so much.

But Jack shook his head, just slightly. So Ianto turned to Gwil with his excuse and explanations ready. It was what he was good at, after all. “Dad died, just a little bit,” he offered the half-truth to Gwil, knowing he was already too old to believe a full lie. “But Auntie Tosh and Uncle Owen brought him back. It's what they do.”

Jack nodded his approval at Ianto, big hand stroking through Gwil's hair. The movement seemed to be as much a comfort to Jack as it was to Gwil. Ianto joined them on the couch, moving Jack's feet out of the way and onto his thighs to make space. He tugged Gwil off of Jack and onto his lap once he was settled, in order to give Jack a reprieve. Jack sank back into his prone position gratefully. “Come along,” Ianto said to Gwil. “Why don't I make us all some hot chocolate, okay? Go downstairs and get the mugs ready. Your dad and I'll be down in a moment.”

Gwil squirmed away from Ianto and back over to Jack, peppering his face with kisses and hugging him tight. “Don't die again, Dad. Please.”

Ianto looked away, knowing his expression was a storm cloud of conflicting emotions. Jack's voice was tight as he replied. “I'll do my best. Now get downstairs; do as your tad says. We'll be with you in just a minute.”

With one last fearsome snuggle, Gwil reluctantly released Jack and headed down to their kitchen, throwing worried glances over his shoulder every couple of feet.

Ianto sat with Jack's feet on his thighs for a minute, stroking absently at his ankles. Jack spoke first. “Not yet.”

“The younger he-”

“Not yet.”

Ianto nodded. He knew it'd be better if they told Gwil now. The longer they put the conversation off, the worse it would be for Gwil. He'd feel betrayed, confused, hurt... depending what sort of teenager he was, he might even hate them, or do something rash because of it. If they told him now, he'd accept it: just like he accepted the existence of aliens, and Myfanwy, and Janet, and living beneath the Plass. But the longer they waited, the longer they had to keep it from Gwil, and the more chances of misunderstandings or even injury there were.

But it was up to Jack. Ianto chanced a glance at Jack, who was staring down at his newly-mended chest. It was selfish of Jack to keep this a secret from Gwil, to pretend for a little while longer that they were something resembling a normal family.

Ianto stroked Jack's ankle one more time before patting his thigh and standing up. As he helped Jack to his feet, Ianto kissed him, then wrapped an arm around Jack's shoulders. Jack leaned heavily on Ianto as they slowly made their way downstairs to Gwil.

It might be selfish of Jack to keep this a secret, but Ianto was willing to allow Jack this small bout of selfishness. Jack deserved it, after everything he did. So Ianto would lie to Gwil for Jack, and wouldn't broach the subject until another crisis occurred. Which it would, of course. But Ianto wouldn't say anything to Gwil about it until Jack was ready, or it was completely unavoidable. Ianto could only hope the former would come about before the latter.

***

Ianto stood outside their “house”, checking his watch and doing his best not to fiddle with any parts of his suit. He didn't expect anything to go wrong today, but still. It was the first time an outsider would experience the teleportation pad, and therefore the first time the pad would have to stand up to scrutiny. He couldn't forbid Gwil having friends over forever, after all.

Honestly, if the worst happened and Gwil's little friends noticed something amiss – either with the teleport or by somehow escaping out into the main area of the Hub – Ianto had two doses of retcon ready for them. Of course, that wasn't exactly an option he delighted in entertaining.

Right on time, Gwil rounded the bend in the road, two friends tagging along with him. Mentally Ianto placed names to faces he had looked up on the Torchwood computers: shaved head and protruding eyes was Zachary; mass of brown hair and big, brown eyes to match was Tibor. Ianto had told himself he was looking up Gwil's friends to make sure he could be a proper host. If a quick background check on their parents' was involved, too, it didn't hurt anyone.

“How was your day?” Ianto greeted Gwil. He started to bend down and wrap Gwil up in a hug, then hesitated, realizing such a display of affection might not be welcome in front of his friends. Sure enough, Gwil stepped forward and patted Ianto lightly on the arm in greeting. Ianto suppressed a snicker.

“Okay. Tad, this is Tibor and Zachary.”

Ianto greeted the two boys with a nod of his head. “Afternoon. You're the boys who watch the Star Wars show, aren't you?”

Tibor and Zachary bobbed their heads excitedly. Zachary shouted: “And Gwil's got Lego Clone Wars!”

For a moment, Ianto battled between two, completely pointless desires: first, to tell Zachary to use his “inside voice” - even though they were currently standing outside – and second, to correct the nine year old's grammar. Ianto succeeded in suppressing both urges.

“He does,” Ianto confirmed, in lieu of giving any lectures. “Why don't you come in: I have snacks waiting before you start playing.”

Ianto opened the door, staring through it. Beyond the boundaries of where he knew the teleport was, the image of their rooms in the Hub shown out. There wasn't anything to indicate that between one step and the next was a break in space to the other side of Cardiff: not a shimmer in the air or static charge. Still, Ianto had to remind himself to breathe.

Gwil's two friends raced through the front door, oblivious to Ianto's trepidations. With a glance up at his tad, Gwil followed them, waving his hands and pointing to the kitchen. Ianto followed quickly, swinging the door shut behind him.

On the other side, the boys were scrambling in the kitchen at the fridge for the promised snacks. Neither one seemed to have noticed anything amiss. Ianto breathed a sigh of relief, then glanced at the door to the Hub: hidden at the moment in plain sight by a perception filter. Hopefully it would hold up to a pair of ADD, sugar-addled minds. Ianto watched the boys sticking their heads in the refrigerator and laughing. It probably would.

Ushering the boys to the kitchen table like a pile of ducklings, Ianto made them sit down as he pulled out the previously prepared snacks: mixed fruit, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and milk all around.

Ianto hesitated as he placed the glasses of milk in front of the two guests, wondering about spills and tiny hands being unable to grasp normal-sized glasses. But the boys went about their eating and drinking without much trouble, so Ianto allowed himself a moment to breathe as he checked on the remote monitoring systems for the Rift.

“So, are you at home all the time?” Zachary asked around a mouthful of sandwich.

Ianto blinked, turning away from the Rift displays and back to the boys. “Excuse me?”

Zachary continued unperturbed. “'Cause my stepdad stays at home, and my mum works. But my dad works, and then my stepmum stays at home. So do you stay at home, and Gwil's other dad works?”

Nodding his understanding, Ianto slid into the spare seat at the kitchen table, clasping his hands lightly on the tabletop. “No, we both work.” Ianto was just glad the boys didn't seem to have a problem with the idea of Gwil having two dads. Brilliant age, they were living in. For the most part.

“Well then why you home right now?” Zachary continued to ask questions with his mouth full. Ianto frowned.

Gwil spoke up for him, setting down his glass of milk with a soft thud. “Dad is Tad's boss. So he can get time off whenever he needs to.”

Ianto frowned, almost correcting Gwil. Put that way it came off downright nepotistic. Then again, Ianto made sure everyone received equal time off – nepotism notwithstanding. So he let Gwil's explanation stand.

Tibor piped up as he examined a piece of strawberry skeptically. “But you're Gwil's real dad, right?”

Ianto frowned. “Mr. Harkness and I are both Gwil's dad. We adopted him together.”

Tibor pointed between Gwil and Ianto with a piece of cantaloupe he had picked up instead of the strawberry. “But Gwil's yours, right? Like, there was a mummy, and you, and then now there's you and Mr. Harkness?”

Ianto “ah'ed” quietly in understanding. “You think I'm Gwil's biological father.”

Tibor shrugged as he shoved the cantaloupe into his mouth. “Shure,” he mumbled.

“I'm not,” Ianto replied. He glanced over at Gwil, who was watching the conversation, unperturbed. Enough people had commented on the similarities in their appearance for such conversations to just roll off Gwil, like water off a duck. “We get that a lot: people thinking he's actually mine. But Jack... Mr. Harkness... and I adopted him two years ago.”

Poking at his empty plate, Zachary suddenly looked up at Ianto. “Can we go play now? Gwil's dad?”

Ianto blinked at the little boy, temporarily at a loss for words. “Gwil's dad”. That was how he used to refer to his friends parents, when he didn't know their last name. But no one had ever addressed him by such a moniker before. “Yes, of course.”

The boys rushed around him like a little tornado, scrapping chairs violently against kitchen tiles and grabbing for a last piece of fruit with sticky fingers before they were gone, rushing down the halls to Gwil's playroom. For just a moment, Ianto let himself sit at the kitchen table and stare at the empty seats, just the smallest bit overwhelmed. At least the kids were at an age where they could entertain each other on playdates. Ianto wouldn't know what to do otherwise.

On a whim after he had cleaned up the kitchen, Ianto poked his head through Gwil's playroom door. The three boys were sat on the floor in front of the telly – try as he might, Ianto just couldn't get Gwil to sit away from the telly. No matter how many warnings of ruined eyes and glasses Ianto used, Gwil still would invariably manage to creep forward until his nose was centimeters from the glowing box. Jack's delight in sitting just as close as Gwil probably didn't help the matter.

“Oi! You killed me!”

“Did not!”

“Geroff, you wanker!”

Ianto watched as the boys proceeded to scuffle briefly on the floor, wrestling controllers away from each other and throwing them across the room. He considered intervening, but Gwil was right in the middle of the fight, and seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself. After a few moments of flailing arms and slapping hands, Gwil and Tibor emerged with the wiimotes, scrambling back to the telly. Zachary was laughing through his disappointment, gesturing at the telly with one flung-out arm.

“I didn't kill you on purpose!” he clarified.

Tibor muscled Zachary aside as he scooted closer to Gwil on the floor. “Too bad! 's Gwil's turn, anyway.”

Gwil somehow managed to convey he was addressing Zachary without taking his eyes off the screen, head tilting slightly in the other boy's direction. “You can have it back at the end of the level,” he offered. “And you can help spot the targets.”

Zachary's eyes light up at that, and he scrambled to insert himself on Gwil's free side as his eyes scanned the telly. “There!” he screeched, pointing at some light white spot on the left of the telly. Ianto was having a hard time discerning anything going on in the game besides a swirling mass of lasers and quickly-moving colors.

Apparently Gwil managed to hit whatever target Zachary had been pointing at, because he grinned and nudged Zachary with his shoulder. “Thanks!”

With a happy sigh, Ianto slid the door to Gwil's playroom shut. As he walked back to the kitchen, his eyes automatically went to the Rift monitor. Still quiet. He glanced back at the playroom, before making the decision to head up to the Hub and pass out a quick round of coffee. Gwil seemed like he had everything in hand, after all.

Just as he was about to head up, the Rift monitor blipped: just for a second before falling silent again. Ianto frowned, pulling up the device history and scrolling through it. Another blip. He checked his watch, then looked back at the screen. The blip had occurred just when he had been herding the boys into his house – probably why he hadn't noticed it before. Scanning through, Ianto couldn't see anything that resulted from the blip: it appeared, at first glance, to be just a momentary spike in Rift activity. Not even a spike: more like a shudder.

With a frown, Ianto made sure the data was sent up to his workstation up at the Hub. If it still seemed odd once he had a proper look at it, he'd pass it off to Tosh. It was probably nothing, but one could never be too careful when dealing with the Rift.

***

Ianto frowned as he watched Gwil snatch his lunchbox up from the kitchen table. “Did you brush your teeth?”

Gwil rolled his eyes, adjusting his rucksack on his shoulders. “Yes, Tad.”

“It's chilly out today. Why don't you grab-”

“Okay.” Gwil trudged over to the coatrack in their atrium and grabbed his jacket off it. He then turned to his father, holding out his arms. “Okay?”

Ianto sighed. “Fine,” he teased. “I get it: you don't need me anymore. Off with you!”

With a smile and an eye-roll, Gwil skipped back over to Ianto. Obediently Ianto bent down and received Gwil's kiss on his cheek, then shoved Gwil toward the teleportation pad. Gwil laughed and ran away, gone in an instant through the portal.

As Ianto pushed himself up from his crouch, he found himself rising into Jack's arms. He turned around, laughing when Jack leaned forward and snogged him.

“So...” Jack started, and from his tone of voice Ianto already knew his morning was going to end one of two ways: sex, or blue balls. As his erection stirred in his boxers, Ianto desperately prayed for the Rift to behave. Just for a half hour or so. “I'm heading off to take a shower,” Jack continued.

Before Jack could even finish with “Join me?” Ianto was shoving Jack bodily through their bedroom and into their shower, shedding his boxers and ripping off Jack's as they went. Jack laughed the whole way, only stopping when Ianto pulled him around into a kiss. Ianto's hands fumbled with the shower knobs as they kissed, flipping the water on without opening his eyes. Both men yelped as ice-cold water hit their skin.

“Ianto!” Ianto found himself being shoved out of the shower so fast he almost cracked his head open. He chuckled to himself as he and Jack waited outside the shower for the water to heat up: half-wet, half-erect, and impatient as a Hoix in a grocery store.

Ianto sighed as he held his hand out and tested the water for warmth, ignoring Jack's wandering hands squeezing at his arse. Some technologically advanced alien-hunting organization they were: standing naked outside a shower as they waited for the water to heat up. After a moment, Ianto shook off his hand and withdrew it from beneath the spray, wrapping it around Jack's neck and pulling him in for a wet kiss. Jack “mmphed!” at the sudden attention, then relaxed as he let Ianto drag him into the shower, tongues sliding over each other wetly as the first hit of – now suitably warm – spray hit their bodies.

“Turn around,” Ianto ordered Jack, gasping as he pulled away from the kiss. Jack complied, veritably plastering himself to the glass walls of their shower as he followed Ianto's orders.

Reaching for their ever-present bottle of oil-based lubricant, Ianto slicked up his fingers. He pressed himself flush up against Jack's back as he slipped a single finger in. Beneath him, Jack moaned and arched back, body pressing itself even closer against Ianto's, skin sliding against wet skin under the shower spray. Ianto pressed his face into Jack's neck, smiling into his skin as he wiggled his finger around, probing and thrusting and stretching Jack around it.

“Hurry up before the water turns cold,” Jack grumbled.

Ianto laughed even as he relubricated his fingers and thrust two into Jack. “Now you sound Welsh,” he teased.

Jack hummed as he pushed his arse against Ianto's fingers, fucking himself leisurely on them. “Guess I've got a little Welsh in me.”

Ianto groaned at the pun. “Honestly, Jack,” he chided. “What a terrible sense of humor.” He stretched his fingers inside of Jack, causing the other man to groan and move his hips faster on them.

“You going to fuck it out of me?”

Somehow Ianto managed a wry chuckle, even while he was busy going light-headed as all his blood went south. Jack talking dirty, in that deep, masculine voice of his... Ianto shivered bodily, in spite of the warm spray hitting his back. He pulled his fingers out, relubricating a third time before slipping three in. The water always washed a goodly amount of the lubricant away, even when it was oil-based, and he didn't want Jack uncomfortable.

When Jack reached above his head with one arm, gripping the shower wall tight, and reached back to grab at Ianto's waist with his other, Ianto knew he was ready. He pulled his fingers out, smiling to himself at the way Jack's arse kept pushing back, seeking out more stimulation even as Ianto slicked himself up. Jack's hand slipped over Ianto's skin, running up and down his back as Jack pulled him in closer. “Come on,” Jack groaned, turning his head sideways and pressing his cheek against the shower wall. “Ianto...”

Far be it from Ianto to refuse Jack like this. With a quiet groan Ianto moved his hand to the base of his arousal, lining himself up flush with Jack's back. Jack was still moving beneath him, arse brushing up against the leaking head of Ianto's cock once or twice. A louder moan managed to find its way past Ianto's lips.

He pushed in quickly, not wanting to give the lubricant time to wash away under the spray of the shower. Jack's groan was satisfied, almost laughing, as he started fucking himself happily back on Ianto. “Yeah, Ianto, come on...”

With a growl Ianto reached up to Jack's neck and pushed his cheek harder against the shower wall, snapping his hips roughly into Jack. Beneath him, Jack groaned as he let himself be pounded into the shower wall. “I thought I was fucking a poor sense of humor out of you?” Ianto queried. Jack stiffened at that, muscles in his raised arm flexing as he tightened his grip on the shower wall. “Can't have you taking charge if we're going to do that, now, can we?”

Roughly Ianto yanked Jack's arm away from his back, manipulating it until it was alongside the raised arm, gripping the shower wall with it. He squeezed Jack's flank as he continued to thrust into him, aiming to draw as many grunts and moans and whimpers from Jack as he could. Jack didn't disappoint: fucking himself hard on Ianto, a series of breathless grunts falling from his lips with every thrust.

Ianto laughed as he buried his face in Jack's wet neck, teeth nipping at the hot skin. “Try and...” he took a breath as Jack clenched around him, hips stuttering in their rhythm as his ever-heightening arousal snuck up on him. Then he regained control, fucking Jack harder against the glass as he found his voice. “Try and... make a bad pun... now.”

Jack's laugh was cut short as he groaned and writhed, flushed cheek pressed flat against the glass, mouth hanging open as his eyes rolled back and squeezed shut.

Satisfied that Jack was fucked-out enough – and on the verge of coming, himself – Ianto reached around and maneuvered his hand between Jack's hips and the glass of the shower, stroking him to quick completion. Jack's come spattered on the glass, washing away in the next few seconds from the spray of the shower. Ianto followed him a moment later, hand slapping against he shower wall and biting down on Jack's neck.

Jack hummed happily as Ianto pulled out, fingers uncurling slowly from around the top of the shower and arms slipping down the wall. Ianto grinned as he watched Jack slowly peeling himself off the wall, bit by bit, until he finally turned himself around and faced Ianto.

“Mm.” He reached out an arm, batting for Ianto lazily. Ianto acquiesced, letting Jack pull him into his embrace and a lazy, post-coital kiss. Then Ianto pulled away and reached for the soap, nudging Jack away so he could give him a proper wash. Teasingly he pulled the shower head off the wall and pressed it against Jack's arse, wiping the soap across the pucker there with his other hand. Jack laughed, pressing his arse back against Ianto to let him clean out his come. When he was done, Jack turned around in his arms and pulled him into another kiss.

Ianto replaced the shower head and continued to scrub down Jack, passing the soap to him when he was done so Jack could return the favor. When he was done cleaning Ianto's body, Jack replaced the soap and picked up the shampoo, massaging Ianto's scalp as he worked it through his hair.

Humming, Ianto let his eyes fall closed as he relaxed into Jack's arms, reveling in the feel of Jack's fingers working over his scalp. Invariably his mind drifted back to work, something niggling at the edge of his thoughts even through the comfort of Jack's magic fingers. “You know, there's been some strange blips on the Rift monitor recently.”

Jack's fingers left Ianto's scalp, nudging Ianto backwards under the spray. “Has Tosh taken a look at it?”

Ianto nodded, wiping a hand back through his hair to make sure all the shampoo was out. He stepped out from under the spray and opened his eyes, nodding for Jack to turn around so he could do the same to him. As he shampooed Jack's hair, Ianto continued his musings. “She can't seem to find anything resulting from it. There's a shaky pattern, but not perfect: it almost corresponds to school days. But then every once in a while there's an anomaly: a blip on a Sunday or Saturday afternoon, or no blips one Monday. And it doesn't seem to be localized anywhere. It's just a blip in the Rift itself, nonspecific to a location.”

Jack's face was slowly becoming more and more thoughtful as Ianto spoke. When Ianto finished washing the shampoo out of his hair, Jack snapped off the shower and turned to him, hands on his hips. “Huh,” he wondered, frowning. “Well, send it over. I'll take a look and see if anything jumps out at me. Otherwise, if it's harmless...”

Ianto nodded. “I've already made a note of it, in case this is building to something in the future.”

Jack sighed ruefully. “Yeah. Probably is, knowing the Rift.”

As they stepped out of the shower together, Ianto felt a small twinge of fear thinking about the innocuous-seeming Rift blip. As Jack said: nothing with the Rift was ever innocuous, and sooner rather than later, something bad would probably come of it.

But then Jack wrapped a fluffy towel around Ianto, pulling him into a warm hug. And Ianto pushed the Rift blip to the back of his mind. Whatever would happen would happen, and there was no use worrying about it until they knew more.

***

Gwil was in the middle of creating a very elaborate, very important Valentine's Day card for Katie when the crash happened.

The crash was loud, and completely unmistakable. It sounded like a giant was stomping on the playground with metal boots: all loud, low frequency vibrations, plus the screeching sound of metal tearing through metal. Gwil's hands automatically went up to his ears, as did the other children's in the classroom. His next instinct was to run to his bedroom and lock the door, just like he did whenever something bad happened at home. But he was at school: there wasn't a bedroom door to lock.

As the children started screaming – some running to the window, some huddled at their desks, and Mrs. Richards doing her best to keep calm, even though she looked panicked herself – Gwil did the next best thing: he ran to the classroom door and locked it, shoving a desk in front of it for good measure.

With that done, Gwil ran over to the window, just to get a quick glimpse of what was going on. Usually he would just leave all this up to his dads, or his aunties or uncles, but they weren't there. No one was there that could help, Gwil knew. Except maybe him.

Outside looked like the crash he saw on the M4 one time with his tad. There was metal all crunched up and thrown about, and the ground was dug up in some spots and smushed in others. At the center of it all was a big spaceship, shaped like a giant sideways eight. It looked like it was normally a gleaming silver, but now was covered with dirt and pieces of playground.

Zack was standing next to Gwil at the window, peering out at the sight. “It looks like balls!” the boy snickered.

Gwil frowned. He supposed it sort of looked like balls. Not really, though: they were too spread apart, for one. For another... Gwil pondered the ship. “It's a 'finity sign,” he breathed.

Next to him, Zack paused and glanced his way. “Like, not-uh times infinity?”

Reaching for a scrap piece of paper and a pencil, Gwil started to draw. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “My Auntie Tosh – she's brilliant with maths and computers – she showed me it. See:” he held the paper out to Zack, sideways eight painstakingly scrawled, “infinity.”

A scream drew Gwil's attention from his conversation with Zack. It had come from the other side of the classroom, where a girl was running away from a window in terror. Mrs. Richards had opened the window on that far side – to get the children out, Gwil figured, since several of his classmates were gone. Mrs. Richards screamed this time, trying to herd the children away from the window. “S-s-stay back!” she shouted. “Don't hurt them, please!”

Curiously Gwil started forward, peering at the ground beneath the open window. A little ball of slime caught his attention, inert below the window. As he drew closer, he saw the ball twitching, expanding and contracting, until it rolled a little ways forward. Mrs. Richards screamed, and the ball of slime stopped again.

Now Gwil was only a meter away from the ball. It was maybe the size of his dad's hand spread wide, and a shimmery, silvery color. Gwil cocked his head at it. “Hello?” he ventured. He felt a twinge of guilt. His dads had always told him not to talk to aliens – not unless they were there with him. But he had seen them work enough times, and they weren't there: Gwil would have to handle this all on his own.

“Hello. I'm Gwil. You're on Earth,” he tried again. “That's in the Sol System, on one of the outside arms of the Milky Way. I think we're Galactic Sector ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha, but I'm not positive. Do you need help?”

The little ball of slime expanded and contracted, almost seeming to vibrate in indecision. Then, very cautiously, it started to roll toward Gwil. Without thinking Gwil stuck out his hand, as he might to a strange dog. The ball of slime stopped centimeters from it, expanding and contracting several times in rapid succession. It looked to Gwil like it was sniffing him. Then, very gently, the ball of slime rolled forward and brushed against Gwil's hand.

Gwil's nose wrinkled. It was cold. And slimy. But he gritted his teeth and bared it, tapping the slime lightly several times. “I don't think you're a grown-up,” he pondered. “You're a kid. Or a pet.”

Another scream from behind him cut short Gwil's musings, causing his head to snap up. Outside the still-open window stood two tall, elegant figures. They weren't human in the slightest: their skin appeared similar to the slime ball's, just more silvery and less slimy, although there still seemed to be a light coat of slime over both. They were wispy, amorphous figures, legs in the shape of three ellipsis, like a trio of stretched-thin rubber bands. They had no arms to speak of, or head: just a torso with a small indent in the very top. Gwil decided to address the indent when he spoke.

“Hello.” He wiped his hand on his trousers, then held it up palm-out to the two new figures. “I'm Gwil. You're on Earth. Did you crash?”

The alien on the right's indent moved quickly, and a strange blooping noise filled the air. Gwil supposed it was speaking. He waited a moment for it to finish, then spoke again. “Sorry, I don't have a translator thing-a-ma-jig on me. My dads usually have that stuff. Do you have one I could borrow?”

The alien on the left started chattering in its weird, bloopy language. It seemed excited: its “chest” expanding and contracting quickly as it spoke.

When it stopped, Gwil tried again. “I'm sorry, I still can't understand. I told your pet ball that you're on Earth, Sol System, Milky Way Galaxy, Galactic Sector ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha. I dunno if any of that helps...”

“We are sorry.” Gwil started backwards. Right-side alien had spoken in English! Its voice was a bit deep and muddy, kind of like it was speaking through a vat of mud. But it was definitely English. Right-side alien continued: “Our translator required more data before it could begin functioning. What is this language we are speaking?”

Ignoring the gasps from his classmates and teacher behind him, Gwil nodded understandingly. “English. It's not the only language on Earth, though. There's bunches.”

Left-side alien leaned forward, sort of like he was bowing slightly to Gwil. “Thank you. We will make a note of it in our records.”

While the left-side alien expanded and contracted – Gwil wasn't sure if he was making that note he mentioned or just breathing really heavily – Gwil chanced a glance back at his classmates. He winced. They were all staring at him, right at him, as he spoke with the aliens. That wasn't good. Tad and Dad always said how important it was to keep the aliens a secret, but here they were: out in the open and in front of his whole class. Maybe he should call them.

Gwil turned back to the aliens. “Misters, do you mind if I call my dads? Their job is to help aliens, so they'd know how to fix your ship, or something.”

Left alien tilted to the side. Gwil thought it kind of looked like he was cocking his head – except there was no head, just a torso with three rubber-band legs. “You are a child? Our apologies. Yes, call your adults in.”

Gwil grinned out the window at the aliens before hurrying over to his rucksack. Thank goodness. It was too scary, having to try and take on all the responsibility of talking to the aliens himself. He'd much rather his dads deal with it themselves. Then he could get back to focusing on important Gwil stuff: like that Valentine's Day card.

The phone rang only once before Tad picked up, the sound of the SUV's sirens loud in the background. “Gwil? Oh God, Gwil, is that you?”

“Yeah, Tad.” Gwil rolled his eyes. His tad worried so much.

On the other line, Gwil could hear Tad breathing loudly into the mouthpiece, and a noise that sounded suspiciously like sobs. “Are... are you alright?”

“Yeah, Tad. There's-”

Tad cut him off, and now Gwil was fairly certain his tad was about to pass out, he was breathing so fast. “Hide, Gwil. Go hide. Find a little space, and... No! Jack!”

There were the sounds of a scuffle and the rustling of hands over the receiver of the phone before Dad's voice came over the voice, loud and crisp. “Hey, champ.”

“Hey, Dad.” Gwil tapped his foot, faltering only once or twice in its rhythm. His dads could be downright silly at times. He hurried on before Dad could stop him. “Dad, I talked to the aliens. They seem nice. I think their spaceship crashed. Tell Auntie Tosh it looks like an infinity sign!”

Gwil could hear Tad shouting at Dad in the background before Dad spoke again. “Can you tell me what they look like?”

“Yeah,” Gwil turned back to the aliens, studying them closely. “They've got three legs,” he could hear his dad start to relay his description back to someone else in the SUV, “but the legs are shaped like stretched-out rubber-bands. Or a thin race car track. And they're covered in slime. And silvery. They don't have heads or arms. I think their mouth is this little spot on the top of their chest.”

He waited a moment as Dad spoke to whoever it was in the SUV, smiling over at the aliens. To his surprise, the little sphere pet had rolled over to him and was bumping gently as his foot. Gwil wrinkled his nose and bent down to pet it again. If it weren't so slimy and gross, it might be cute. Like a hamster in a ball, except both were merged into a single being.

Gwil's head swam for a moment, and he had to blink to focus on what his dad was saying. “Huh?”

“Gwil, you there?”

Oh. Gwil felt sick. Like that time Uncle Owen had given him all those shots. Except worse. And really... pale.

Gwil sat down on the floor with a thump. The little slime-ball nudged at his knee, in what appeared to be concern. Gwil patted it. “'m... kay...” He blinked extra, extra slow.

At the edge of his awareness, he could hear his dad saying something through the phone at him. “Don't... poison...”

But Gwil's head was feeling too swimmy, and his stomach too inky, and he just really had to lay his head down because it was so heavy. “Dad,” he managed to mumble into the phone as he slowly laid himself down on the classroom floor. “Don't hurt 'em. They're the nice aliens. Just... ship crash...”

The phone clattered from Gwil's grip to the floor as he finally succumbed to the darkness swimming at the edge of his vision. The last thing he heard was the sound of the SUV's sirens, louder than they had been on the phone.

**

Gwil cried out, clutching his stomach weakly. “Tad,” he groaned. “Hurts.” Tears welled in his eyes. His tummy hurt so bad. He wanted his tad.

“Shh.” A hand wrapped around his, and Gwil opened his eyes just long enough to see that it was Tad before shutting them again against the pain. He tried to roll to the side, to clutch at his stomach properly and curl into a little tiny ball of pain and wretchedness, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Oh no you don't.” That was Uncle Owen's voice. “Stay right there, little man. Otherwise I'll end up jabbing a hole in your arm.”

Gwil sobbed again, trying to clutch at his stomach but being stopped by mysterious hands again. He cried harder, unable to do anything to alleviate the pain. It hurt. It hurt so much.

A small prick on his arm went barely noticed, as all of Gwil's pain receptors seemed entirely focused in his stomach at the moment. Then, suddenly, the pain started to ebb. Gwil's head went swimmy again, and for a moment he panicked. But then the swimmy-ness took away the panic, and Gwil slowly relaxed into the fog. This was a good kind of swimmy.

“There you go, il nostro poco barista.” Gwil blinked slowly, gazing up at Uncle Owen. He was smiling down at Gwil. “Told you I'd take care of you.”

Gwil nodded, marveling at the feel of his head moving. It felt so... big. And... moving. “'s good. Now.”

Uncle Owen winked down at him. “Only the best painkillers for the hero of the hour.”

“Gwil.” Tad's voice broke through Owen's. Slowly Gwil scanned the air above him, until his eyes drifted to the left and he saw his tad.

“Hi, Tad.” A small worry niggled at his mind. “Aliens okay? Don't let Dad hurt them.”

Tad nodded, tight smile on his lips. “The aliens are just fine. Dad, Auntie Tosh, and Uncle Mickey are helping them fix their ship right now.” Tad paused for a second before continuing, smile still tight. Weakly Gwil reached up to poke it, push it into a happier smile. His hand was intercepted with little effort on his tad's part. “They want to see you: the aliens. They were very worried when you got sick.” Tad paused for longer this time, long enough that Gwil started to fall asleep again. When Tad spoke, it was softly: almost like he wasn't meant to hear it. “Don't play hero again. Please.”

Gwil found he couldn't keep his eyes open even as he replied. “You and Dad weren't there,” he mumbled. “An' everyone else was scared.”

A hand stroked through his hair, and Gwil could tell without even opening his eyes that it was his tad's. A moment later, his tad pressed a kiss to his forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling him into a prone hug.

“'m'kay, Tad,” he mumbled. “Just... nap. 'fore aliens... leave.” Gwil was asleep almost before the last syllable left his lips.

**

The sun was lower in the sky when Gwil woke from his drug-induced nap. The room was quieter than it had been before. As Gwil pushed himself up on his elbows and looked around, he saw why: there were no panicking students or teachers in the classroom.

Groggily Gwil felt around him, patting at the stretcher Uncle Owen must have placed him on. Moving to push the warm emergency blanket off him, Gwil stopped when he caught sight of his hands. They were covered in thick bandages, completely wrapped up so that his hands looked like round white stumps.

Gwil panicked. He had seen his hands looking like this before: not with nice, clean bandages, but rags and scraps of clothing. There had been blood, that time. Lots of blood. And no more finger. If both his whole hands were covered, then... then...

Starting to cry, Gwil kicked the blanket off him, then started to slide off the gurney. A sharp pain in his arm stopped him. It was the IV, still connected to him. Gwil cried. He couldn't pull it out because his hands were gone, but he wanted to go and find his tad.

“Gwil!”

Gwil's head shot up, tears blurring the sight of his tad striding through the classroom door. Gwil cried harder, holding his arms out. “Tad!”

Tad was at his side in an instant, wrapping Gwil up in his arms and making shushing noises into his hair. Gwil's arms wrapped around Tad's neck, clinging as hard as he could with no hands. He cried into his tad's shoulder, wiping his nose and tears on his nice suit. If this was what happened when he talked to aliens, he was never ever doing it again.

“What's wrong, Gwil?” Tad was maneuvering Gwil, trying to look at him even as Gwil continued to cling to his neck. “Does it hurt? Uncle Owen can give you more medicine.”

“My hands!” Ripping himself off his tad, Gwil shoved his bandaged hands in his tad's chest. “Are they gone? Are my fingers gone?”

Tad's eyes widened, mouth falling open as comprehension dawned on him. “No, no,” he hurried to reassure Gwil. “They're fine. All your fingers are there. Uncle Owen just had to put medicine on them. The bandages are there to make sure the medicine stays on your skin until you're all better.”

Gwil stared up at his tad, trying to sort if he was telling the truth or not. Tad's expression seemed calm, and sure of what he was saying. Slowly the tears stopped pouring out of Gwil, and he managed to bring his breathing under control. “Promise?”

Bending down, Tad pressed a kiss to Gwil's head, then wrapped him up in a tight hug. “Promise. Uncle Owen will take the bandages off tonight to reapply the medicine and you can see for yourself then.”

“There's my mini-hero!” Gwil peeked around his tad to see his dad gliding into the room, coat billowing out behind him. “How're you feeling?”

Sniffling one last time, Gwil pushed himself away from Tad, mustering a brave face. “Okay.”

Tad leaned into Dad as he came closer to the gurney. “He thought he had lost his fingers. With the bandages.”

Dad's face went sad for a moment, and his mouth opened and closed in a silent “oh”. Then he turned up his smile again, leaning in to ruffle Gwil's hair. Gwil rolled his eyes and automatically reached up to fix his hair, before remembering that he couldn't. He sighed and lowered his bandaged hand back to his lap. Dad grinned down at him. “Uncle Owen said you wanted to see the aliens before they left?”

Gwil nodded, sitting up straighter on his gurney. Tad was frowning slightly next to Dad, but Dad ignored him and turned to the door. “Hey, Mickey!” he shouted. “The little man's awake! Bring them in!”

A moment later Mickey strode in, shooting Jack a glare. “We've got comms! No need to shout it, Captain!” The aliens entered the room shortly behind him. They didn't walk: more like rolled. Their three legs stayed on the ground, and the silvery slime of their bodies seemed to undulate, sliding them across the ground. Gwil was reminded of videos of snakes he had scene on nature shows: moving across the ground without seeming like they could.

On top of the one on the right, sitting where its shoulder might be, was the little pet ball that had gotten so attached to Gwil. It vibrated happily as they got closer, slime undulating all over its surface as if over-eager to see Gwil again.

“We are sorry,” the one on the left started in its muddy, bloopy voice. “We didn't realize our surface was toxic to humans. We meant you no harm.”

Gwil nodded. “It's okay. I'm better now.” Uncle Owen and Auntie Tosh came in the door, Uncle Owen going straight to Gwil and checking him over. Gwil put up with his poking and prodding as he continued to talk to the aliens. “Is your ship all fixed?

“Yes. Thanks to your adults.”

Gwil reached a bandaged hand out and pointed as best he could at the ball. It emitted a muddy trill at the acknowledgment. “Is that your pet or a little one of you?”

The aliens paused, turning to each other as they conversed briefly in their native language. A moment later they turned back to Gwil, the one of the left speaking in English. “It would be a pet, yes. That is an accurate descriptor. He was very upset when you fell ill.”

Gwil peered up at Uncle Owen with big, blue eyes. “Can I pet it? So it knows I'm okay?”

Tad started forward, shaking his head as he glared at Uncle Owen. But Uncle Owen was rolling his eyes and digging around his medical kit, laughing at his tad. “Calm down, super-dad. At least he's not asking if he can keep it.”

Gwil's eyes widened. He hadn't thought of that! But one look at his tad's I-am-not-amused expression told him that idea would go over just about as well as the time he had tried to fill the Hub's water with goldfish.

Myfanwy had eaten them.

Uncle Owen emerged from his medical kit, holding a plastic bag up triumphantly. “Aha! Here we go: hold out your hand, munchkin.” Obediently Gwil stuck out his hand, cocking his head in curiosity as Uncle Owen placed the bag inside-out over his hand. “I suppose I don't have to explain that you can only touch it with the bag part?”

Gwil nodded. He understood. Hand safely covered with the plastic bag, Gwil stretched his arm out. The alien glided closer, leaning far down from its impressive height so that its shoulder was level with Gwil. The little ball trilled in muddy, slimy excitement as Gwil stuck out his hand and stroked it front to back several times.

When he pulled away, Uncle Owen swooped in and carefully peeled the bag off Gwil's hand, turning it right-side-in as he did. He sealed it up and winked at Tad. “And now we've got samples to test, and you can add it to the file on the Licidians. Happy?”

With a perfectly straight face, Tad deadpanned: “Ecstatic.”

The alien with the pet on its shoulder straightened and glided away, rejoining its partner. “Goodbye, little human.”

Gwil waved his bandaged hand. “Bye. Bye hamster ball!” The pet pulsated on the alien's shoulder. With that, they turned to Auntie Toshiko, who led them outside.

Gwil turned to his tad. “They were nice.”

Tad frowned down at him, but it was Uncle Owen who replied. “Yeah, except for the almost-killing you part.”

“That was an accident!” Gwil pouted. “I'll just make sure I don't touch the next aliens I meet.”

“The next alien you meet?” Uncle Owen teased. “Uh-oh. You hear that, Tad? Looks like you're raising a future Torchwood agent.”

Gwil examined the way his tad's face went really frowny at that. Dad seemed less concerned, but he still smacked Owen on the arm and pointed down at Gwil. “Come on: let's get all this back to the SUV and head out. Gwen's still swamped with news reports she's been squashing all day.”

Owen nodded, prodding Gwil to lie down on the gurney as he wheeled him through the halls of the school and outside. As he watched the ceiling pass above him, Gwil pondered the day. If this was all there was to his dads' jobs, it wasn't so bad. Maybe he'd do it when he got big, too. He just wouldn't touch any aliens.

***

Ianto straightened his tie nervously as he glanced around the full auditorium. Next to him, Jack smiled and pressed a reassuring hand to his back as he gently guided Ianto forward. “It's fine,” he murmured in Ianto's ear.

Seeing the glances shot his and Jack's way and the whispers that followed them like cicadas on a hot summer's day, Ianto shook his head. “They know who we are, Jack.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. They stopped as they reached a relatively empty row and sat down. “We're the inhumanly gorgeous parents the most adorable little boy in the show.”

Ianto rolled his eyes as he sat down. “Or, far more likely, they're looking at us because they know you're the big dashing hero that runs around town in his billowing coat, sweeping in to save the day whenever something otherworldly occurs.” An elderly couple – grandparents, Ianto reckoned – farther down the row were looking at him curiously. Ianto smiled weakly. The woman tutted and turned to her husband, muttering something. He nodded in a no-nonsense Welsh manner, and they both turned from Ianto and Jack. Ianto sighed.

Jack's heavy hand pressed reassuringly down on Ianto's thigh. He sighed again and tried to turn his mind away from the other parents and their whispers, focusing his attention instead on the stage and the closed curtain. Jack's hand actually was quite reassuring in its own way, even though it was doing nothing more lewd than just resting there. One particularly loud whisper of “Torchwood!” drew Ianto's attention away from Jack, causing Ianto to crane his neck and try to see the source of the exclamation. But then Jack's thumb swept over Ianto's engagement band, and Ianto turned to him with a grateful sigh.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “But they are talking about us.”

“Let them talk,” Jack whispered back, before lifting Ianto's hand to his mouth and kissing it briefly.

The auditorium lights flickered three times, indicating for the parents to take their seats. As the lights fully dimmed a hush fell over the crowd, whispers quieting until they stopped. Ianto felt immediately more at ease. Here, in the dark stillness of the auditorium, Ianto could pretend he and the man holding his hand were just two normal parents, about to watch their son in the end of the year production of Romeo and Juliet (greatly abridged and translated into modern vernacular, for the sake of the fifth years who had to memorize all the lines). He and Jack weren't Torchwood, and their son wasn't a Rift victim from 1848, and Jack didn't have his comm active in his ear in case the apocalypse suddenly happened. No: the were just proud parents, about to watch their little boy act his little heart out as Romeo.

Ianto had been surprised, a month back, when Gwil ran to him, big blue eyes pleading as he asked his tad to teach him how to act. Ianto immediately delegated the task to Jack, who was more than happy to throw on a dress and act Juliet in counter to Gwil's Romeo – the role he was auditioning for. Not that Ianto didn't think his son could memorize the lines, or muster up a respectable acting ability for a fifth year. He just never expected his little, shy Gwil to have any desire to get up on stage in front of all his peers and their parents.

It was Martha who sorted it first. "Who's trying out for Juliet?" she had asked Gwil.

When Gwil's face went beet-red, ducking his head and mumbling "Katie", Ianto "ahh'ed" softly, sharing a look with Jack. He had just grinned, every centimeter the proud dad, before turning back to Gwil and tapping him on the head with the script.

One of Gwil's classmates came out on stage, playing the role of the narrator. Ianto recognized him as Zachary, one of Gwil's closer friends. He scratched his head throughout his small narration speech, and had to turn off stage and whisper "Line?" to Mrs. Richards once. Still, the parents all clapped politely as Zachary bowed, then bounded off stage.

The moment Gwil came on stage Ianto had his camera to his eye, snapping pictures with barely a moment to coo with Jack over how absolutely adorable Gwil looked dressed up in mock-period clothing. To Ianto's absolute delight, Gwil started reciting his lines perfectly, voice clear and certain in the auditorium.

Ianto's phone vibrated in his pocket, causing him to set the camera down for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye Ianto could see Jack glance at him, looking at the mobile as Ianto pulled it out of his jacket. Luckily, it wasn't a Torchwood crisis or Gwen going into premature labor (the pool at work was up to three grand for when the baby would finally come).

Take loads of pictures of our little Romeo! <3 <3

xxx Gwen

Smiling softly in the warm glow of his mobile, Ianto turned it toward Jack so he could read it. Jack grinned, nudging Ianto with his shoulder. “She's just jealous that she can't come because she can't fit into the seats,” he whispered.

“Mean,” Ianto whispered back, teasing.

Abruptly Ianto's attention was snatched away from Jack and back to the stage when a little girl walked out onto it. That'd be Katie, or Juliet, as she was in the play. Gwil's face was visibly beaming, even seen from all the way in the middle of the auditorium. Ianto made sure to take a few more pictures.

When Gwil had his big scene with Katie – leaning forward and kissing her on the cheek when they were married – Jack stood up and applauded furiously, hooting and hollering and wolf-whistling for Gwil. On stage, Gwil's entire face turned beet red, and he looked like he might faint right then and there from happiness. Ianto snapped so many pictures of that moment that they could probably make a flip book from it later.

Jack sat back down, nudging his shoulder against Ianto, every inch the proud parent. “Did you see?”

“Yes, Jack,” Ianto arched an amused eyebrow at Jack. “I saw.”

Jack was beaming. “He's going to be a little Romeo! Saving the world, getting the girl...”

Ianto's mouth twitched down at the “saving the world” part, but he said nothing, instead refocusing his attentions on Gwil and the stage. Gwil's friend Tibor was acting as the priest, completing the marriage ceremony and sending Romeo and Juliet on their way. Ianto smiled again as he watched, laughing quietly with Jack as the children fumbled their way through the play, mock-sword fighting and slipping over costumes.

When the play ended, the parents all went out into the atrium for some hors d'oeuvres: apple juice and biscuits. Abruptly Ianto was reminded of his earlier insecurities under the harsh, bright light of the atrium, surrounded by whispering parents. Tugging lightly at his waistcoat, Ianto jut his chin out. Yes, so he and Jack were Torchwood. If any of the parents were truly bothered by it, they would just have to face him. And Jack.

“You're Gwil's parents, aren't you?” Ianto turned toward the woman's voice, finding himself face-to-face with Gwil's teacher. Sticking his hand out and smiling politely, Ianto nodded.

“Good evening, Mrs. Richards.”

Jack bounded over, holding a plateful of biscuits in his right hand and two plastic cups filled with apple juice in his left. “Mrs. Richards! How nice to see you again!”

“Again?” Mrs. Richard's hesitated, glancing between the two men. “I don't believe we've met, yet.”

Ianto shot Jack a look. The only time they had met Mrs. Richards was to give her retcon after aliens had crash-landed at the school. She wouldn't have remembered them.

Jack's eyes widened, before he turned back to Mrs. Richards with mouth wide open, flopping around for something to say. “Right. I was thinking of Gwil's other teacher. Last year.”

Slowly Mrs. Richards nodded, expression obviously skeptical. Eyes flickering between Jack and Ianto, she seemed to come to a decision about the two of them before turning the fullness of her attention to Ianto. “Gwil's such a lovely little boy: it's always a pleasure to have him in class. So well-behaved and considerate of others. You've obviously done a wonderful job raising him.”

Ianto smiled, mentally snickering at how put-out Jack looked at the way Mrs. Richards addressed all her parental compliments to Ianto. Behind her back, Jack stuck his tongue out before pressing two biscuits in his mouth at once, chewing obnoxiously.

“We do our best,” Ianto addressed Mrs. Richards as he ignored Jack.

“I don't mean to pry, but I take it he's your young man, Mr. Jones?”

Ianto shook his head, resisting the urge to roll his eyes even as he continued to smile at Mrs. Richards. “No. Biologically he isn't related to either of us.” He glanced over at Jack, who winked at him.

“I suppose it's just good Welsh genes that makes both my men so handsome,” he teased. Ianto smiled back good-naturedly, but inwardly he sighed. Not at Jack, but at hearing the question about his and Gwil's relatedness. It was cute the first dozen times someone pointed out how much alike they looked. Now it was just tiresome having to reexplain it to every new person their family met.

Interrupting the impromptu parent-teach meeting, the doors to the atrium burst open and the children began pouring out, racing into their parents' arms. Gwil was in the midst of the pack, more subdued than some of the other children, but no less brilliantly happy. “Did you see me?”

Jack scooped Gwil up immediately, bouncing him on his hip with pride. “Of course! And,” Jack leaned close, stage-whispering to Gwil, “we saw you kiss Juliet.”

Gwil blushed a brilliant red and pushed away from Jack until he set the little boy down. Ianto watched, observing anew the resemblance between him and Gwil. He even flushed at the mention of the kiss the same way Ianto did, when Jack teased him in front of the other Torchwood employees or in other, more intimate settings.

Changing the subject with a furtive glance in Katie's direction, where she was chatting animatedly with her parents, Gwil asked Jack: “No emergencies?”

“Nope,” Jack confirmed. “Saw the whole thing!”

Just then, Jack and Ianto's phones buzzed in perfect unison, and Jack tilted his head sideways, as if he was listening to a voice in his head. Ianto sighed, pulling his own comm out of his pocket with one hand and his phone with the other. He knew where this was heading.

 

Flipping Godzilla!

Owen

 

Giant lizard! Just outside Penarth!

Gwen

 

Not to be a walking stereotype, but: Godzilla!

Toshiko

 

When Ianto looked up from his phone, Gwil was pouting up at him. “Emergency?” he asked in a tone of voice that said he already knew the answer.

“Emergency,” Ianto confirmed, tucking away his phone.

Jack beamed at Mrs. Richards, throwing her a rakish wink. “Sorry, but duty calls.” Without waiting for a reply he scooped Gwil up onto his shoulders, jogging out of the school with his coat billowing behind him. The last thing Ianto heard him say before the doors shut behind him was: “Has Uncle Owen shown you Godzilla yet?”

Ianto winced, turning back to Mrs. Richards. With a polite nod of his head and a calm smile, he excused himself. There were none-too-subtle whispers following him out the door, courtesy the other parents. But Ianto just stood ramrod straight and strode forward, letting the doors slam shut behind him. He had to save the world, after all.

***

Gwen grimaced as she waddled through the zoo, one hand on her swollen belly. She really hated this. She felt like a space whale, she was so huge, and she couldn't even walk without waddling like a penguin. Rhys, the handsome Welshman currently holding her hand as they strolled along the stone pathways, insisted that she was still the beautiful woman he married – more beautiful now than ever, even. She fancied he was lying through his teeth, but it was sweet of him to say. She rubbed her stomach. Especially since her belly button had popped out. Hideous.

“Auntie Gwen!” Gwil was an exhibit ahead of her and Rhys, staring wide-eyed at something. “Look at the...” he paused as he read the sign. “Ost-rich. It's big!”

Rhys nodded sagely as they strolled up next to Gwil, coming to a stop in front of the exhibit. “It says you can pet 'im,” he read off the sign. “Want to give it a go?” Gwil's eyes widened and he nodded viciously. Removing his hand from Gwen's, Rhys bent down to pick Gwil up, groaning a little. “Oof. You're getting to big for this, little man.”

Gwen eyed Rhys amusedly. “Or someone needs to lay off the chips and hit the gym.”

“Oi!” Rhys laughed as he settled Gwil on his hip. “I've got a bad back, me. All those years in haulage!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gwen teased. She continued smiling as she watched Rhys hold Gwil up high enough so he could pet the ostrich's neck with careful, even strokes. Her hand rubbed against her belly subconsciously. Rhys was going to make a good tad. Even if his back was already going.

Curiosity satisfied with the ostrich, Rhys set Gwil down and let him scamper off to the next exhibit. “Ponies!”

Rhys groaned, taking Gwen's hand in his own. “I don't suppose it's time for a rest, yet? I could use a breather. And you look like you could use some time off your feet.”

Gwen's feet were throbbing. Bloody useless things. How exactly did nomadic tribeswomen do this: walking around the whole time they were pregnant? She could hardly stand to be on them for more than an hour before they swelled up like a blowfish. “Well,” Gwen feigned reluctance, “after Gwil has had a turn on the ponies. Then we can grab a bite.”

“Brilliant.” Rhys rewarded Gwen with a kiss on her cheek, before hurrying over to Gwil. The little one had already queued up all on his own for the pony rides.

Gwen watched with a smile as Rhys went up with Gwil, walking with him around the dirt track the handler led the ponies around. Gwil was grinning madly, hands gripped tight around the reigns like he was the one steering the pony, rather than the handler leading the pony on his right. As the wind ruffled his hair and blue eyes sparkled in the sun, Gwen shivered. The look on his face was a bit much like Jack's when he saw a new species or spacecraft come through the Rift. Ianto would have to watch this one as he grew into a teenager; Gwen just knew it.

Five minutes later, Gwen was waddling over to the little bistro located in Cefn Mably Farm Park, one exhausted Welshman on her right and an exhilarated mini-Welshman on her left. “And cowboys rode horses, did you know that, Auntie Gwen? Like in America. And they had guns, and they'd rob trains and eat beans around campfires-”

Gwen nodded patiently as he lifted one hand to her temple and rubbed it. The fact that Gwil was slowly coming out of his shell was lovely and all, and he was certainly well-behaved for a boy his age... but Gwen wouldn't mind a little bit more peace and quiet than this.

Rhys ordered them all fish and chips as Gwen eased herself down at a table with Gwil. The little one scooted close to her, eyeing her belly. “Auntie Gwen? May I please touch the baby?”

Gwen smiled and ran her fingers through his curly dark brown hair. Jack still hadn't managed to override Ianto's influence and tease the politeness out of him, then. “Go ahead,” she lifted her arm and wrapped it around Gwil, letting him snuggle close to her belly with his wide eyes peering down at it. “Though I don't know if she's awake right now. I haven't felt her move in a while.”

Gwil's face took on a hushed tone as he pressed his ear to Gwen's belly, four-digit hand resting just under it as he listened patiently. Gwen's arm settled across Gwil's back, stroking slowly as he waited for the baby to do something. In the meantime, Rhys strolled back over to their table, arms laden down with baskets of fish and chips and soda.

Reluctantly Gwil pulled away as the smell of grease and batter drew his attention to the table. “The baby's asleep,” he informed Gwen mournfully.

Gwen nodded, plucking a chip from her basket. She stifled a positively lewd moan as its greasy goodness practically exploded on her tongue. Heaven. “She'll wake up after lunch,” she promised Gwil. “She always does.”

As Gwil dug into as fish and chips, napkin tucked under his chin much in the fashion of his fathers, he considered Gwen's belly with a curious eye. “When's the baby going to come? It's been forever.”

Gwen shared a look with Rhys, mentally agree with Gwil's impatience. “Just another month, according to Auntie Martha.”

Gwil's eyes lit up. “And then I'll get to hold it?”

Rhys' laugh was nervous. “If you're careful,” he cautioned. “And seated. And only when one of the grown-ups is around. Actually... only if Gwen, I, or your tad Ianto is.” Rhys puffed his cheeks out as he glanced apologetically at Gwen. “Not sure if I trust Jack around a baby.”

Stuffing a nice big chunk of fish into her mouth, Gwen rolled her eyes. “He's probably had more practice with babies than either of us!” she pointed out.

Rhys remained looking skeptical. “Still,” he grumbled. “One alien invasion later and he's dashing off, leaving our baby girl alone on a desk or something while he saves the world.”

In defense of Jack, Gwen threw a chip at Rhys. Rhys snatched it up from the table and ate it. Well played, Gwen thought.

Wincing, Gwen pressed a hand to her belly. The baby girl was certainly awake now. “Gwil,” she motioned for Gwil to snuggle up to her stomach. “The baby's awake.”

Gwil's mouth fell open as he gasped, little body shivering with excitement as he scooted over and pressed his head and hand to her belly. Moment's later the baby kicked again, causing Gwen to grumble and shift, while Gwil's eyes went wide and wondrous.

“Little football star, isn't she?” Rhys nodded at Gwil and Gwen's belly.

Gwil nodded much-too-seriously for such a question, eyes turned inward as he focused on Gwen's stomach. Another smile lit up his face as the baby kicked again.

After lunch Rhys bough Gwil and himself an ice cream. Gwen declined: she was in the mood for fish fingers and pickles right now, while the thought of ice cream made her nauseous. She rubbed her belly again. The baby couldn't come soon enough.

“I can help take care of the baby,” Gwil offered between licks of his ice cream cone. “I've seen people change nappies on the telly. I think I can do it.”

Rhys laughed, ruffling Gwil's hair as he popped the last bit of his ice cream into his mouth. “Maybe when you're a little older you can babysit,” he conceded. “Auntie Gwen and I'll even throw in a fiver for your time.” Rhys winked at Gwen, as if he was being quite clever. Gwen just smiled and shook her head, saying nothing. By the time Gwil was old enough to babysit he'd have figured out the going rate of babysitting and surely ask for more money. But she let Rhys think he was being clever, for now.

“Can I feed the baby when it comes? I'll be really careful.”

They were in front of the bunny exhibit now, so they came to a stop in the queue to go in and pet the bunnies. Gwen stroked Gwil's hair. “You don't have to worry about taking care of her, love,” she said. “Uncle Rhys and I will do all that boring stuff like feeding her and changing her nappies.”

Gwil shrugged one shoulder, eyes cast downward. He suddenly looked very sad, and Gwen hesitated. Sometimes Gwil got into these moods – more often than not, over something from his life back in 1848. “I know,” he murmured. “I just want to help take care of it.”

Sharing a hesitant look with Rhys, Gwen bent down – not very far, what with her belly in the way. “What is it, love?” She stroked a hand through Gwil's hair again. “Is it something from the mill?”

Gwil glanced around before focusing those big blue eyes on Gwen. “There was a baby,” he whispered, voice so sad and faint Gwen almost couldn't hear him. “We found it in a rubbish heap. I wanted to help it, to take it to the church, or give it food, or a blanket, or something. But it wasn't moving or breathing. And the rats were getting to it, already.”

Gwen sucked in a sharp breath, clutching at her stomach as tears welled in her eyes. “Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, Gwil...” At a loss of what to do, Gwen settled for reaching down and scooping Gwil up in her arms, snuggling him to her bosom tight.

Gwil squirmed in her arms, trying to push away. “Auntie Gwen,” he grumbled. “It's okay. It was ages ago. I just...” Gwil paused as Gwen sat him down, face scrunched up as he tried to explain. “I never got to help the baby. But now you're going to have a new one. So I want to help it.” He paused again, as if realizing he wasn't making sense. He tried again. “I know it's not the same baby,” he stated. “But... um...”

Stroking a hand through Gwil's hair again, Gwen smiled, eyes a little watery. “It's okay, sweetheart. I understand.” She sniffed, blinking rapidly as she looked around. They were at the front of the queue. “Look!” she said, trying to wipe surreptitiously at her eyes. “Bunnies!”

Gwil – who probably needed the distraction less than Gwen – happily turned away from her and to the bunnies, which were hopping around the little enclosure. His eyes widened, face lighting up as he gazed upon the sea of fluffy love in front of him. Without another moment's delay, Gwil was off, scurrying around to pick up the little bundles of fluff and cuddle them mercilessly.

An arm wrapped around her shoulders and Gwen leaned into it, sniffing again. “It's alright, love,” Rhys murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair. “He's not there anymore. And Jack and Ianto look like they're not doing half-bad raising him.”

Gwen nodded, head resting on Rhys' shoulder. “I know,” she whispered. “It's just awful: how all those children lived. I can't even imagine...” she trailed off, something at the edge of the enclosure catching her eye. Was that... pink...?

Oblivious to her change in attention, Rhys continued to talk, stroking her arm gently. “But he's here now, yeah? And he doesn't seem too bothered by it all.” Gwen lifted her head from Rhys' shoulder, not really listening as she squinted across the enclosure. Yes, it was definitely pink. Hot pink. Did they dye one of the bunnies? Could you dye a bunny's fur? “And he does so well with all the Torchwood stuff, it was like he was born into it.”

“Auntie Gwen!” Gwil was over by the pink fuzz ball that had attracted Gwen's attention, both hands thrown up in the air. “I'm not touching it!” He was backing away slowly, eyes staying focused on the pink creature. “Auntie Gwen! I think it's a Janet sort of bunny! Auntie Gwen!”

Gwen groaned, pushing away from Rhys and waddling as fast she could over to Gwil. Okay, yes: that definitely wasn't just a bunny with a bad dye job. For one, its ears appeared to be more prehensile tentacles, twice as long as its body. For another, it had six legs. It was a small wonder it had managed to blend in with the other bunnies for any length of time at all.

“Bollocks,” Gwen muttered, digging through her purse for her mobile and Torchwood ID. “Rhys, love?”

Rhys was already at her side, spluttering as he pointed at the not-bunny. “What- what- what in the hell-”

“Yes, dear, I know: I see it. Could you get the children out, please? And find me the employee who runs the exhibit? I need to call Jack.”

With hardly a single splutter more, Rhys whirled away from Gwen and started herding people out of the exhibit, saying something about a sick or dead bunny or something. Gwen was listening to her mobile dialing, one eye on the not-bunny and one eye on Gwil, who had only just lowered his hands from above his head.

“I didn't touch it!” he said again, and then Gwen remembered why he'd be so wary of touching something alien. She patted his head absently as she waited for Ianto to pick up.

“Good job, sweetheart,” she cooed. “That's very good.”

“Gwen? Is something the matter?”

Gwen smiled reassuringly into the phone, even though she knew Ianto couldn't see her. “Nothing's wrong with Gwil,” she started with, winking at Gwil as she spoke. “But he did manage to find yet another pet-sized alien. Seems he's just a magnet for these things.”

Gwil tugged at Gwen's jeans, standing on tip-toe and saying loudly into the phone: “I didn't touch it!”

Ianto's sigh was loud on the other end of the line. “Right. Andy and I will be out there in thirty minutes. Should we bring anyone else?”

Rhys was heading over to her now, enclosure successfully cleared out and a rather confused employee trailing behind him. “No, no,” Gwen said. “It seems like it's just the one. And it doesn't seem harmful, but, you know:”

“You never know,” Ianto finished for her. “Right, well, on our way. Tell Gwil he's very good for not touching it.”

“Will do,” Gwen chirped before snapping shut her phone. She smiled down at Gwil, sighing slightly as the little boy gazed up at her, waiting for her instructions. “Your tad's on his way. He says good job for not touching it.”

Gwil veritably beamed at the praise, before turning back to the pink not-bunny. It was nibbling at the grass, little nose twitching. It seemed to sense Gwil's attention, turning to look at him. Its ears (tentacles? feelers?) perked up, reaching out like a centipede's feelers toward Gwil, questing through the air as it tried to sense what was out there. Gwil's eyes widened. “Can I touch it now?” he breathed.

Springing into action, Gwen grabbed Gwil by the shoulders and passed him off to Rhys, swapping him for the employee standing next to Rhys. “Keep the little one away,” Gwen ordered with a smile. “At least until we know it's safe.”

Gwen ignored Gwil's pout as she turned to the employee, expression turning less warm-motherly and more scolding. “Now,” she started, pointing down at the pink not-bunny. “Care to explain what is that?”

***

Ianto leaned over Tosh's shoulder to look at her displays, tracking her rapid talking and mouse gesticulations as best he could. His eyes flickered over the display screen as she talked, trying to discern the same pattern she was describing.

“So your initial suspicion was correct, Ianto: it is correlated to school days. Well... approximately ninety-four percent of the time.”

Ianto frowned. “But what about the Mondays and Fridays that it didn't blip, or the Saturdays when it did?”

Two new windows popped up on Tosh's displays: one appeared to be a school schedule, the other a selection of the Rift blips. They overlaid perfectly. “The Mondays and Fridays I have sorted: the days when we don't see any of the blips are days that the school has off.”

The chill in Ianto's gut intensified. The Rift blips actually having something to do with school children wasn't the news he wanted to hear confirmed from Tosh. “But what about the Saturdays that it does blip?” Ianto's eyes darted across the screen, expecting a new graph to pop up.

Instead, Tosh just shrugged and slid back in her chair. “That's the six percent I can't find an explanation for. Though...” she paused for a second, thinking. “Working on the assumption that it is something to do with one of the local school schedules, and judging by the times it's blipping it has to do with the primary schools...”

Ianto waited patiently as Tosh clacked away at her keyboard for a moment, mouse double-clicking furiously as her glasses flashed with each new screen that popped up. “Ah! Down to four percent unexplained!” She pointed at a new screen she had pulled up. “Several of the Saturdays correspond to events at this primary school: Christmas plays, end of the year plays, recitals, and... a bake sale!”

Taking a breath to steel himself, Ianto forced himself to ask the question he already knew the answer to. “Which primary school matches the best to the blips?”

Tosh, apparently not having caught on just yet, clicked through her screens with a smile on her face. “It's-” she stopped, eyes wide. “Oh. Oh. That's... it's Gwil's.”

Without another word Ianto stepped away from Tosh, heading straight for Jack's office. He could hear the sounds of Jack and Gwen laughing together – probably talking about the baby, knowing them. Gwen was liable to drop any moment. But their pleasant tea-time chat would just have to be put on hold. Ianto didn't know if the blips were something to do with Gwil's school, or one of his classmates, or – God forbid – Gwil himself, but they needed to launch a real investigation yesterday on this, before something horrifying fell through the Rift and landed right on top of Gwil. A second time.

“Jack.” Ianto's voice was curt, designed to get Jack's attention in an instant. Sure enough, Jack turned away from Gwen, smile slowly fading from his face.

“What's up, handsome?” he teased. Leaning against his desk, Gwen giggled. “Something I can do for you?”

“Tosh and I have been discussing the Rift blips. She's made a discovery that I think requires your immediate attention.”

Jack's face fell. They had already discussed the possibility of the blips having something to do with school children, though Jack had affected nonchalance, brushing aside Ianto's concerns with a single flippant hand gesture. Now, it seemed, they couldn't brush it aside.

Pushing himself upright, Jack pressed an absentminded kiss to Gwen's cheek as he moved past her. “Sorry, Gwen,” he apologized. “Looks like we'll have to continue this discussion another time.”

“Uh, Jack?”

Ianto turned to Gwen, not managing to hide his irritation all that well. Yes, she was pregnant. Good for her. But right now there was possibly something very wrong with his little boy, and call Ianto a selfish cow, but he found that to be a bit more pressing at the moment. “Gwen, can this wait?” He frowned. Gwen was looking rather peaky, and clutching at her stomach. And the floor beneath her was wet. Huh. Ianto frowned. When had she dropped her tea?

To his infinite embarrassment, Ianto didn't realize what had happened until Jack had rushed past him, helping Gwen to the Torchwood car park and shouting for Martha. His eyes widened, then widened some more as he glanced at the puddle on Jack's carpet. Okay, that was a teensy bit nauseating.

Just as Ianto was struggling between the urge to find some carpet-cleaner or follow Jack and Gwen out to the car park, the Rift alert went off. He groaned. Tosh's voice rang out form her station: “Stampede! Stampede of... er... robot wolves?”

Owen's voice was next. “Bloody hell, that's right terrifying, is what that is. What are those supposed to be: hell hounds?”

Springing into action, Ianto ran to his station and grabbed his gun, comm, and keys. “Jack's helping Gwen,” he informed Tosh and Owen as he trotted over. “Martha's with them. Looks like we've got this.” Glancing around the Hub, Ianto frowned. “Where's Mickey?”

Tosh waved Ianto's concerns away as she checked the magazine in her own pistol and slid it back in place, tucking it into her purse. “Taking readings out in the bay. Because of that reverse-nuclear decay we thought was out there?”

Ianto groaned. Right. Of course. Leave it to the Rift to slam them the day Gwen decides to give birth. Straightening his waistcoat, Ianto cocked his head. “Well then. Guess we're off to save the world.” Owen and Tosh followed him down to the car park, the three racing off in the SUV together with a quick wave to Gwen as Jack helped her into the passenger seat of her car.

**

Six hours later, Ianto was standing in a hospital waiting room, clothes smelling faintly of sulfur and pitted with tiny little burns. Tosh and Owen were with him, faring similarly. Owen's “hell hound” observation had turned out to be frighteningly accurate. But the three of them had managed to successfully dispose of the mechanical beasts, and their remains were waiting in big containment bins next to Tosh's workstation in the Hub, ready for her to take apart and examine.

The doors swung open, revealing Andy holding little Gwil's hand, who looked ready to explode with excitement. “Tad!” He rushed to Ianto, holding his arms up to be scooped up. Ianto obliged him, pulling Gwil to his chest and settling him on his hip. “Is it true? Is the baby here?”

“Just about,” Ianto confirmed. “We're just waiting for the doctor to come out and tell us it's okay to see her.”

Gwil glanced around the hospital, bright eyes taking everything in. “Is this where ladies have babies now?”

Just then Jack swept over, holding an armful of chips and coffees for everyone. “Among other things!” he quipped. There was some careful manhandling as Jack traded Ianto snacks and refreshments for Gwil, and Ianto began passing them out. In the meantime, Jack ruffled Gwil's hair. “How's it going, champ?”

“Good!” Gwil bounced in Jack's arms. “I want to see the baby!”

“As soon as the doctors say it's okay, we'll take you right back.”

Ianto moved in, shooting Jack a warning look. “But Auntie Gwen will be tired, I'm sure. So you have to be very quiet and polite. Okay?”

Gwil's face turned quite serious as he nodded for his tad. “Yes, Tad. I know. I just want to make sure her and the baby are alright. There's...” he paused, face downcast. Jack and Ianto shared a knowing look. “Just, sometimes the mum's not okay. Or the baby. I just want to make sure Auntie Gwen and the baby are okay.”

Ianto nodded, smoothing Gwil's hair down from where Jack had ruffled it. “I know. But now babies and mummies are a lot better taken care of. See how nice and clean everything is here?” Gwil glanced around, nodding as he turned back to Ianto, who smiled reassuringly at him. “So Auntie Gwen and her baby girl should be just fine.”

Not a minute after he spoke, the doors to the maternity ward burst open and Martha came bounding in, face flushed with excitement. “Baby Braith has just made her dramatic entrance into the world!”

Leaning over to Jack, Ianto whispered: “With Gwen's daughter, could we really have hoped for something not dramatic?”

“Shush,” Jack whispered back, grin firmly ensconced on his face. “I'm enjoying the first Torchwood baby I've seen in decades.” Ianto fell silent, smiling softly at the comment. He supposed it had been a long, long time since any female Torchwood operatives had managed to live long enough or had the support system to give birth. It really was a miracle that they had managed this, even with the Rift spewing out hell hounds not a minute after Gwen went into labor.

When they crowded into the room – the entire Torchwood team – Jack lifted Gwil high up into the air so he could peer over all the adults' heads at Gwen and the baby. He gasped. “It's so clean! And healthy!”

Gwen groaned, clutching the baby to her breast. "And has such a large head!" Martha and Tosh nodded in sympathy. Ianto could only imagine. He had a kidney stone once – he tried mentally multiplying the pain ten fold, and found he just couldn't fathom it.

Owen laughed as he made his way over to Rhys, clasping the shellshocked looking Welshman on his shoulder. “Well: did she curse the day she ever met you? Break your hand holding onto it?”

Gwen laughed. “No, but I did curse you, Owen!”

Owen held up his hands defensively. “What? Why! I wasn't involved in all of this!” Owen gestured to Rhys, Gwen, and the hospital room.

Rhys nodded over at Gwen. “'s true. She kept asking for that singularity scalpel and cursing you for not giving her the good drugs.”

Martha cut in. “I would just like to point out that I gave Gwen the maximum amount of human drugs available.” She smiled weakly at Gwen. “I didn't feel it'd be advisable to try out untested alien birthing technology on you.”

Gwen's smile was forced. “Well then maybe we should test it before I go through this again.”

Jack bounced Gwil on his hip. “Well, come on!” he gesture with his free arm. “Pass her around. The munchkin's rearing to have a look at his baby cousin.”

Gwen smiled as she passed baby Braith to Rhys, who in turn carefully turned the little bundle over to Toshiko. In Jack's arms, Gwil was shivering with excitement as he patiently waited his turn with the baby, craning his neck and peering over as first Toshiko, then Martha held the little girl. When Gwil seemed liable to burst if he wasn't the very next person to see the baby, Ianto took the little girl from Martha and carried it over for Gwil to peer down at.

Gwil gasped, blue eyes blown wide and mouth hanging open in awe as he peered down at his little cousin. Ianto watched the interaction with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth: sleepy, perfect little baby girl in his arms, amazed little boy in Jack's. “Can I touch it? Please?”

Ianto nodded, shifting Braith in his arms as he moved closer to Jack, their shoulders pressed against each other's. “Gentle,” Ianto cautioned, even though he knew Gwil would be. Gwil's four-fingered hand reached down to Braith's drowsy little face. Breath held, Gwil stroked his pinky and ring fingers over Braith's forehead and down her cheek. When Braith did nothing more than pucker her mouth slightly and start sucking at air in her sleep, Gwil was emboldened. He stroked the peach fuzz on top of Braith's head, brushing it off her forehead and arranging it nice and tidy.

Bleary baby eyes opened, squinting up at Gwil. “Hi,” Gwil whispered. “I'm Gwil. I'm going to help take care of you. You've got a nice mam and tad, so you won't really need my help. But if you need it, then I'm here.” Braith's only response was to blink once, then shut her eyes again as she drifted back off to sleep.

Ianto cleared his throat, blinking a little rapidly. “Alright, Gwil,” he tutted, ignoring the way his voice sounded a touch hoarse. “Braith needs her rest. And I'm sure Auntie Gwen would appreciate some as well.” Ianto waited for Gwil to stroke Braith's head one last time before he carefully carried the baby back to the nurse, who set it in the incubator next to Gwen's bed. He kissed Gwen on the forehead before he left, whispering “Congratulations,” to her. Gwen's smile was tired, but brilliant.

The Torchwood team made their way out of the maternity ward, Gwil clambering out of Jack's arms and off to the snack machine with a couple pounds clutched tightly in his fist. To Ianto's surprise, he found Jack wrapping strong arms around him and holding him until Ianto relaxed into the embrace. When he did, Jack rewarded him by pressing a kiss just below his ear.

“Let's have another.”

Ianto laughed, stepping easily out of Jack's arms and gracing him with a patented eye roll. “Honestly, Jack. One Rift-refugee child is plenty.”

Jack's grin didn't falter as he inched closer to Ianto, finally setting his hands on Ianto's waist when they were close enough. “Yeah, maybe you're right.” His grin widened as he squeezed lightly at Ianto's (minor) love handles. “Wouldn't want you to lose your girlish figure, anyway.”

Ianto pouted as he stared down his front. He knew he could see a little less of his shoes than last year, and it wasn't because his feet were shrinking. “Somehow managing that with just the one. And I don't have the excuse of having given birth to him.”

Squeezing at Ianto's love handles again, Jack bestowed Ianto with a lecherous wink. “I like you with a few extra pounds. Something to hold onto.” The look in his eyes left no doubt as to when Jack was referring to said holding-on taking place. “And it means you're healthy. And happy.” Jack stopped, smile dimming just a notch. “You are. Happy. Right?”

“Jack,” Ianto chided. Gwil ran up to them, holding a bag of crisps up to Ianto.

“Tad, could you open this? Please? I tried but it's stuck.”

Without thinking Ianto took the pack from Gwil and opened it, straightening Gwil's hair on instinct as he handed the bag back to him. Gwil thanked him and hurried away to talk to Andy, who had just emerged from the toilets. When Ianto finally did turn back to Jack, he caught the other man watching him, soft smile creasing his features.

“I'm happy, Jack.” Ianto confirmed. “Honestly. Dunno how you could think otherwise.”

***

The day had, so far, gone completely to plan. Ianto knew he shouldn't think such things lest he run the risk of jinxing himself, but it was true. Gwil had scurried into their bedroom first thing in the morning, squirming his way beneath their sheets in a quest for his presents. Jack had laughed, made a comment about the presents beneath the sheets being more to Tad's liking, and gotten a cuff on the arm from Ianto. Gwil had even rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, and exasperated “Dad,” sounding eerily similar to Ianto's scolding tone.

Presents had been gathered, balloons inflated, and piles and piles of cake, hot dogs, hamburgers, and all the toppings manhandled into the back of the SUV. The Rift didn't act up once. Aunties and Uncles all congratulated Gwil on his tenth birthday, loading him down with even more presents. Then they were off to the park, to meet Gwil's friends and their parents for a day of – hopefully uninterrupted – fun and games.

And so far it had managed to go smoothly. Hot dogs and hamburgers were grilled and munched on ravenously by the children, sodas and juice boxes inhaled with alarming speed, and then the children were off, playing a loosely organized game of football, followed by hide-and-seek, while the adults cleaned up the tables and set out the cake, for after the children had tired themselves out.

In the meantime, Ianto was sitting on one of the picnic benches with Jack, enjoying the sun on his face, the laughter of the children as they chased each other around the park, and Jack's arm pressed into his.

Jack interrupted Ianto's content contemplation of his life with a nod to Ianto's ring finger, where his heavy platinum engagement band rested. “You sure you don't want the big Torchwood wedding? I'm sure I could get it organized in the next two weeks. Put Kate and William to shame, we could.”

Ianto chuckled softly, leaning against Jack more than he normally might out in public. “No, Jack,” he murmured. “The small service, just family and Torchwood, should be plenty.” Ianto paused for a moment, mouth half-open as he considered what to say next. “Have you heard from-”

“She's not coming.” Jack's tone was curt, his eyes staring straight ahead at Gwil kicking the football with his friends.

Ianto waited a beat, then tried one more time. “Steven is just about Gwil's age. They could-”

“No.” The silence between them wasn't quite as heavy as it might have been a year ago, had Ianto brought up the subject of Jack's carefully-hidden family. Even still, Jack's refusal to talk about them was absolute.

Six months ago, as they were making up the guest list for the wedding, Ianto had casually mentioned Alice. Jack had never told Ianto about her, and in all actuality Ianto probably shouldn't have known they existed. But as it was, he did, and he wasn't about to pretend otherwise. Not at this point in his relationship with Jack.

“Will Alice and Steven be attending?”

Jack's reaction then hadn't been a categorical refusal, but rather a tentative interest. He had told Ianto he'd get back to him tomorrow afternoon, given him a kiss on the forehead, and hurried away.

The next afternoon Ianto found a note on the fridge. It had said: “On top of the Altolusso”. Ianto had crumpled it up and thrown it in the trash before resting his head against the cool steel face of their refrigerator. Jack hadn't had the urge to go brood on a rooftop since he and Ianto discussed the habit a year ago. Since then he had managed to keep his brooding confined to the Hub, where Ianto could find him in case of an emergency. Until now. At least he had left a note.

Ianto ventured a guess. “She doesn't approve of you having a family.”

“Ianto,” Jack's eyes slid to Ianto's, narrowed against the bright glare of the sun. “Please.”

Nodding, Ianto fell silent. Their non-conversation had covered everything he needed to know, as it was. He had considered, once upon a time, going to Alice himself and trying to chat with her. But then he had realized she was twice his age, and suddenly felt incredibly awkward trying to figure out how to word “I'm marrying your immortal father” without Jack ending up sounding like a pedophile.

Disjointed screaming erupted in the park, and Ianto let the silence between Jack and him grow as they watched the children play hide and seek. They both chuckled as they watched Zachary trip over his own feet and get tagged out by Tibor. Immediately an argument broke out amongst the two boys as to whether or not that counted. A moment later Gwil was popping up from his hiding spot and calling time out, before passing judgement on the matter. It appeared that his ruling was that Zachary was indeed “it”, because the boy trudged off to the home base tree to count. Ianto sighed. It warmed his heart to see Gwil dealing with such normal childhood issues, instead of aliens or mill life or his immortal dad.

As Ianto contemplated the children racing off to new hiding spots, his thoughts turned back to the Rift blips – a conversation which had fallen by the wayside in lieu of Gwen giving birth and various Rift-related problems.

“Jack, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about.”

Jack glanced down at Ianto's engagement ring with a crooked smile, before clasping Ianto's hand in his own and bringing it up to his lips. “Not having second thoughts, are we?”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “Of course, Jack: I'm having second thoughts about marrying the most handsome, dashing hero in all of Cardiff.”

“Only Cardiff?” Jack mock-pouted.

“Right, well: perhaps the greater UK. But I can't speak for other countries.”

Ianto smiled as Jack nipped reproachfully at his fingers and then released them. “So if it's not about how gorgeous I am, what is it?”

“The blips.”

Jack's face fell, eyes darting over to where Gwil was climbing a tree in order to hide from Zachary. “Is it...?”

“Tosh says there's a ninety-six percent chance it's directly correlated to Gwil's school schedule. His school in specific, though we don't know if it's his schedule or just the school's.”

Jack's face grew dark as he looked away from Ianto, watching Gwil climb the tree. Ianto followed his gaze and didn't say anything, instead waiting for Jack to come to a decision. “We're opening a formal case file on this.”

Ianto nodded. He had suspected as much. “Any insight as to what it might be?” he ventured hopefully.

But Jack just shook his head, bright blue eyes still trained on Gwil. Finally he took in a breath, turning to Ianto. “Let's worry about it tomorrow. For today...”

Ianto nodded, taking Jack's hand in his and squeezing it briefly. “Today's Gwil's birthday.”

Next story in series - Gwil's Guide to Growing Up Torchwood: Year 4.

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